Shakespeare's Cousin

Green Shirt

2012-01-12T23:18:00.000-06:00

This little ditty has remained a favorite of mine over the years. The fact is that it is fairly unique in style, and the use of dynamics, especially at the end of the bridge section, is superb.

The lyrics are included here, because I understand that those more unfamiliar with the artist might have some difficulty in making out the words, and it is well worth the effort.

There’s a smart young woman on a light blue screen
      who comes into my house every night
She takes all the red, yellow, orange, and green,
      and she turns them into black and white
But you tease and you flirt
And you shine all the buttons on your green shirt
You can please yourself, but somebody’s gonna get it
Better cut off all identifying labels
Before they put you on the torture table

’Cause somewhere in the “Quizling clinic”
     there’s a short-hand typist taking seconds over minutes
She’s listening in to the Venus line.
      She’s picking out names. I hope none of them are mine.
But you tease and you flirt
And you shine all the buttons on your green shirt
You can please yourself, but somebody’s gonna get it

Never said I was a stool pigeon
Never said I was a diplomat
Everybody is under suspicion,
      but you don’t wanna hear about that
’Cause you tease and you flirt
And you shine all the buttons on your green shirt
You can please yourself, but somebody’s gonna get it
Better send a begging letter to the big investigation
Who put these fingerprints on my imagination?

But you tease and you flirt
And you shine all the buttons on your green shirt
You can please yourself, but somebody’s gonna get it
You can please yourself, but somebody’s gonna get it

Lights

2012-01-08T01:41:00.003-06:00

A friend of mine, M., is a psychologist for a school district. As such, she is required to perform an assessment on all of the children at certain intervals. Part of the assessment consists of a series of questions.

She was performing the assessment on a boy of later elementary years who had been blind since birth.

One of the questions was to name a reason that we should turn the lights off when we leave a room.

He didn’t understand the question.

So, she went through a lengthy explanation of sensory perception, and how some people see things, and objects have a color and shape that we see; but we need light in order to see, because there’s not always enough of it, and we can’t see when there’s not enough of it.

He told her, “I want to leave the lights on all the time, for anyone who wants to see.”

She took a moment of thought. It wasn’t one of the acceptable answers for the assessment.

“Good answer,” she said. “I’ll take that.”

Management Turnover

2012-01-02T19:05:00.000-06:00

In March of 2010, on the 17th day of the Fast of Ala’, I watched from 80 feet away as six police officers put eight shots into a man I had known for eleven years. I was close enough that I could tell who shot when, and I watched in disbelief as the wisps of smoke hung still in the air, to be swept away by a straggling gust some seconds later.

Following a few instances of police harassment, one of which involved the questionable use of force, I fled Missouri in fear of my life in March of 2011. There had also been a protracted legal battle involving several felony crimes by the opposing party, as well as numerous human rights abuses by their attorney.

On the 6th of December of 2011, the family of MA filed a wrongful death suit in US District Court; naming as parties to the suit Sheriff Anderson, the Platte County Sheriff’s Office, the Riverside Police Department, the Platte Woods PD, Gladstone PD, Kansas City PD, some 36 individual police officers, and roughly that many state and county officials.

That is, the federal statutes for witness intimidation and harassment are now in effect.

The State of Missouri has very lax laws concerning witness intimidation. It depends on the level of charge at issue as to what level of infraction it might be. A witness in a civil matter has practically no form of protections whatsoever.

However, in the State of New Mexico, witness intimidation is a felony crime in all cases. That happens to be one of those felonies I referred to above.

On the 29th of May, 2009, while attending a wedding in Clovis, NM, I received a phone call from the cell phone of the blogger known as ‘Julian Blue,’ et al, who had been my girlfriend-fiancée for roughly a year-and-a half. It was a man that identified himself as ‘George’ and claimed to be her fiancé. He threatened me with physical violence at this time, and later testified under oath to this effect.

I immediately called the 4th precinct in Oakville/Mehlville, and spoke with Sgt. Albert at 9:36pm. I was told to stop by the station to place a report when I visited St. Louis next. I reported the matter to Sgt. Hoots of the 4th precinct of the St. Louis County Police Department on the 9th of June.

This was the incident which was later referred to by that woman as, “Has been told several times to leave me alone.” True. Some jerk called me out of the blue, told me to leave her alone roughly thirty times, refused to give an answer when asked directly if he was authorized to speak as her agent, threatened me with physical violence, and gave me a fake name, knowing that an investigation was proceeding for purposes of objecting to the discharge of debt in a bankruptcy matter.

I spoke to the Curry County Prosecutor’s Office in Clovis, and he informed me that this was either telephone harassment (a misdemeanor) or witness intimidation (a felony). He needed additional documentation to proceed with felony charges.

Now, this is kind of par for the course here:

I found that documentation that he needed whenever I was preparing to go to court to request an extension for an Order of Protection, the third one that I have held against this stalker. I had been too busy to go through that stack of documents before, but I had to in order to prepare for court. I never would have done that were she not to have objected to the extension of that order.

This order was registered as a foreign order in the State of Indiana, but the court of that state has no authority to modify an existing order. I had to go back to the original jurisdiction to obtain an extension. “No problem,” I thought, and it shouldn’t have been; but some people are intent on working against themselves. From every loss, I pick up the weapons of battle until I have gathered an armory.

Serendipity at work.

There’s a lot of that going on.

On practically every occasion that I appear in court in an adversarial hearing against these people, they deliver to me the very thing that is required of me to proceed elsewhere. I really don’t understand it myself, but it just keeps happening like that.

Now, the federal statutes are in effect, and even greater protections are in place. Compared to a county prosecutor, these people have extraordinary authority, and the penalties in place are much more severe.

Arrangements are being made to give testimony by deposition. The vicinity of that deposition (to be specified by your humble host) will not be determined until 48 hours from that time, and the actual location will not be disclosed until that deposition is two hours away.

But really, I wanted to tell you about New Mexico, my home state, the ancient land of the Pueblo. By population, New Mexico is 11% Indian (I really hate the term ‘Native American,’ as it sounds so contrived, but prefer the Canadian term of ‘First Nations.’ My grandfather was an ‘Indian’ before me, and I see no reason engage in extraordinary contrivances to hide the fact.), meaning ‘those registered with a tribe.’ That means one out of every nine persons is a registered member of an Indian tribe.

It is also 46% Hispanic. This is an area which was settled by the Spaniards in the early 17th century; very old according to American standards. These were the conquistadores who came looking for gold; blind men unable to see true wealth.

The Pueblo are an agricultural people, and many of the tribes are matriarchal in structure. Some tribes prohibit men from engaging in decisions as to going to war, as it is thought that men are by nature too intemperate to make such decisions. Many teach that to become a warrior, one must first revere life. Only those who revere life should be allowed to take it, and the reverence of life is a long and arduous process.

Their homes were carved into the cliff faces of the mesas that cover the landscape in that region. Some were embellished with adobe brick, and they were comprised of several levels. The different levels were connected by ladders, which could be drawn up when invaders, mainly the Aztec and the Spaniards, laid siege to the Pueblo.

In a way, the Pueblo invented the townhome, just as it was the Navajo (a related tribe) that invented the pizza.

For two years of my youth, I walked the medicine path. The winged jaguar is my power animal.

For now, you have come upon a true Pueblo tracker, an animal charmer. The Thunderbird is my strong protector, even as my spirit wanders into the mountain, to the place where it is always night.

Come, my conquistadores.

Let this Son of the Desert guide you through this desert land.

I will show you water when you thirst, for the owl is my brother, and the sun speaks wisdom to me under these turquoise skies.

The earth will open up her riches to me.

Come, you blind men. Follow after me, and pursue.

For these eyes can see true wealth.

Ah, but first, you must learn to revere life.

Or perish.

That Giant Sucking Sound You Hear Is the Sound of the Contributors of Jonestown Being Assessed Licensing Fees

2011-12-24T02:28:00.016-06:00

You may not be aware of this, but Salois, the stalker from St. Louis has testified in open court that I, Mercutio / Progressive Traditionalist / Prog Beat / Paleo-Skeptic / Will H. is exactly the very same person as Julian Blue / Scarlet W. Blue / Sherhazade / Scarlet A / ***** Salois (among others) as well as being the very same person as Elizabeth Green / Shakespeare’s Cousin / Portia, as well as any and all contributors and commenters to those sites; namely, Fairlane, Chris Dashiell, Suzi Riot, et al.

That is, it was then asserted that I was the person that wrote this post, recovered from the feed aggregator Bloglines:

The party's at Jonestown!

By Scarlet W. Blue

My latest post over there:

The Little Workshop of Horrors

Drink up, bitches!

Also at Jonestown:

Raspberry Vodka and Diet 7-Up

I HATE INDIAN FOOD

The Great Spirit of Blogging

A rant, a lesson, a quiz, a poem

Take This Book and Burn It

The Prisoner

Medieval Hotties

Scarlet Blue's Myste ry Guest

I'm Flaky; I'll Write Anything

Scarlet Blue's Day Off

Posted on: Sun, Jul 27 2008 10:49 AM

To this very end, I have sent word today to my attorney today that licensing fees should be assessed to any and all of these people from any and all accounts from any financial institutions which might exist holding anything of monetary value, specifically according to the word of the aforementioned Salois, stalker from St. Louis. Scarlet W. Blue was a contributor at Jonestown; therefore any and all contributors at Jonestown did so solely as my personal agent— because it is impossible that I might be any other person than Scarlet W. Blue.

I have determined that a licensing fee of 20% for the privilege of acting as my agent be deducted from all accounts, and that my attorney should retain 15% of all amounts assessed.

I already have the ruling from the court in Missouri specifying that not one single one of those bloggers can post anything whatsoever without it having passed through my hands.

Such is the determination of the court.

And so, you’d better cough up some fucking money.

I don’t let just anybody act as my agent for free, you know.

Since Ms. Salois has already given testimony that each and every one of these people is actually me, then I myself don’t mind if I skim a bit of scratch of the top of all accounts.

It’s only me doing this to myself.

Such is the ruling of the court.

Also, each and every commenter on that site is necessarily the very same person as myself.

So, there should really be no issue with me withdrawing money from those accounts.

In fact, James W. Van Amburg, noted pervert of Platte County, has determined (as usual, without any manner of supporting evidence other than a verbal assertion) that any and all documents of related content posted on the internet must necessarily be the work of one single individual.

That is, these individuals CANNOT post any manner of material except that they be acting as my agent.

Which means, in effect, I OWN this material.

It’s mine, all mine.

And I would seriously like to repossess cars, furniture, and the like.

No, there’s no telling how many actual physical persons I am.

No telling how much of the internet that I own.

But right now, I’m concerned about those accounts held at various financial institutions.

That’s just me.
Nice doing business with you.

Come back again, and I will try to make you look like the sad sack reprobate worthless jackasses you are, whose vision of the highest possible virtue is the betrayal of the trust of another.

Yes, it is this betrayal of trust that constitutes the highest virtue to such Leftists.

Namely, the very humorousness of the betrayal of trust makes it so appealing.

No higher virtue to be achieved than the virtue of betrayal to such Leftists.

A fact for which I will revile all Leftists for all time.

But right now, all I want is the money which is due as a licensing fee for having acted as my agent.

And I demand immediate possession and control.

Progress

2011-11-13T19:47:00.006-06:00

Your new inspector.

This entitles me to some 20% over journeyman scale in most jurisdictions.

And I will soon be registered as a signatory contractor.

I made a 97% on Part C of the exam and a 95% on Part A.

Not bad.

I always finished the first, even in the practice exams. I did Part A (150 questions) in 67 minutes.

The new resume is out and floating around; BP, Marathon, and Conoco-Phillips; a chemical company or two besides.

I'll probably go to Chicago for a year or two, just for the pension benefits ($13.85/hr and pyramiding, rather than the $7.18 on straight time that I was getting).

We'll see what happens.

Photos to come.

Toward a General Direction

2011-10-04T22:31:00.004-06:00

I will be indisposed for a time.

Not that so many would notice; I’m just saying, all the same.

I have a seminar to attend and a certification exam that I’m taking.

This certification is for the American Petroleum Institute (API), and the certification confers a couple of other certs from the American Society of Mechanical Engineers (ASME).

It represents about a 28% increase over journeyman scale, which is nice; but the conditions are so much better. I’m going to be sending out resumes as a field engineer anyway while I'm waiting for the cert to come back; but we’ll see what happens.

I’ll be in a place that I don’t know for a week while I attend the seminar. Good and bad in it, I suppose. I would rather be home.

It bugs the living sh!t out of me when I say that I have to go on the road and people pretend that it’s something that I want to do.

It’s like I say that I'm going to St. Paul to have open heart surgery, and they exclaim, "How wonderful!" because all that they have the capacity to hear is, "I’m going to St. Paul," and therefore they have no regard for the surgery.

I remember this distinctly, as I was preparing to go to the shutdown at the refinery in McPherson, Kansas. I had written a correspondent about this, and she replied something along the lines of, “How wonderful! How exciting! How adventurous!” as if there were Japanese tourists in busloads bouncing all around the place saying, “We have come to take most honorable pictures of your wonderful refinery!”

No, it’s not like that.

I could have just as well said, “I’m going to go lose my hearing in this refinery over here,” and the response of, “How wonderful!” would have been much the same.

Really, I can think of things a lot more adventurous than losing your hearing.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a good place or a bad place— I’m going to be spending 13 to 14 hours a day in a refinery. In fact, I wouldn’t even be aware that it was a bad place unless someone broke into my car in the parking lot.

It could be anywhere, and it doesn’t matter.

To me, there are only two places: home and not-home.

Of course, I’m pretty good at making the best out of a bad situation; but I see no reason to purposefully seek out bad situations, simply so that I can make the best out of them.

The work itself is inherently dangerous. There was a pipe that blew up the other day during a steam blow-down. There have been two men that have died at this site.

For one of those men, that was his first day on the job. He had been out of work for five months, and had just come to that site. For his family, their days of rejoicing turned to sadness when they carried that man out of the gate, less than five hours into his first day of work.

The other fellow made a mechanical error. He was crushed to death, and he was in the hospital for about five weeks before he finally died.

When I was in Milwaukee, there was a fellow pinned under a piece of pipe. It took about 20 minutes for them to get the rigging together to get it off of him.

In the same place, there were about five carpenters that died during an explosion. They were allowed to go into a hopper and begin work without it being properly prepared. Coal dust is highly explosive, and it only takes one spark.

No, I’m no thrill-seeker. I’m a professional.

I’m no high-stepping globetrotter. I’m a journeyman.

I’m not some college kid out on spring break. I’m an honorable man, and I stand or fall according to reputation. I’m one of a fairly small group of elite men.

I’m in the business of making the world a better place. And often I question why. I have no reason to care about the place, and it’s always filled with sadness that I go.

But I would rather not live in a place with an industrial site sitting at the end of the driveway.

Still, I long for a 40-hour work week, and to be at home.

Maybe, someday.

Brother Boilerman

2011-09-26T23:32:00.008-06:00

I had a rain day recently, and I chose to take it.

So, me & the kid hopped in the car and headed over to see the Debs home. It was somewhere like 100 miles away, so it was well within range.

Unfortunately, the place was closed when we got there, but I caught the hours of the place.

Unionization came to America through John Smith at the Jamestown colony. He recognized the shortage of skilled craftsmen, and instituted a system of apprentices, journeymen, and masters. These unions remained localized from the early 17th century until after the Civil War.

Now, my own union is descended from an Assembly of the Noble and Holy Order in Washington, DC. I was reading through a selection of writings their founder less than a week ago; he is still very important to us. Much of their character is shaped by his writings. We have since done away with ‘masters;’ we are journeymen and apprentices.

The unions for the railways developed separately. There were four national unions after the Civil War, and these were separated by various work. It was the grocer and boilerman Eugene V. Debs who started the first national union for all railway employees, the American Railway Union. He also founded the Industrial Workers of the World, the Wobblies, much later.

The Pullman strike saw the first use of government injunction as a union-busting scheme; the “Pinkerton system,” being private militias, was the prevalent technique of the day. President Cleveland sent in the US Army, presumably to secure the mail, and Debs was arrested. He was released, and then re-arrested six days later. He spent six months in prison in Woodstock, Illinois, and it was there that he became radicalized as a socialist. He later founded the Social Democratic Party and ran for President five times, gaining almost a million votes in 1920 while wrongfully imprisoned.

Samuel Gompers was a counterpoint to Debs. Gompers was a communist, and Debs a socialist. Gompers was the president of the American Federation of Labor, which became the prominent national labor union at the waning of the Noble and Holy Order. Gompers wanted everyone to be required to belong to one labor union, while Debs envisioned something more like a republic of co-operative unions. In short, Gompers was a jackass and Debs was gold.

Though the museum was closed, we walked around the back yard, reading the plaques along the fence and enjoying the evening. There is a fairly good-sized crepe myrtle there, and an arched trellis covered with honeysuckle. It was very peaceful and pleasant, very moving.

And I came back.

I had noticed that the honeysuckle to the south were putting out seed pods. So, I waited about a weed and a half, and then I came back. And sure enough, there they were.

And so, I gathered this treasure, these 54 seed pods, to plant and give as gifts in remembrance of one of our revered early leaders.

When the mariner, sailing over tropic seas, looks for relief from his weary watch, he turns his eyes toward the Southern Cross, burning luridly above the tempest-vexed ocean. As the midnight approaches the Southern Cross begins to bend, and the whirling worlds change their places, and with starry finger-points the Almighty marks the passage of Time upon the dial of the universe; and though no bell may beat the glad tidings, the look-out knows that the midnight is passing – that relief and rest are close at hand.

Let the people take heart and hope everywhere, for the cross is bending, midnight is passing, and joy cometh with the morning.

---Eugene V Debs

The Humble Heirs of Our King

2011-09-18T18:56:00.006-06:00

I am darned proud of my apprentice, and for good reason I should say.

This young man learned more in five days of working with me than he did in ten months of working on his previous crew.

He’s going to make a darned fine tradesman.

I hope to God that I will be there to shake his hand on the day he gets his book.

I could feel it in him — the surprise, the shock, the suppressed delight — the first time that I called him “brother,” though it was casual on my part. I was on my way to the gate, and I said as I passed him, “I’ll see you in the morning. Take care, brother.” That word carries weight. Its value is beyond earthly possessions.

He’s started his classes now, twice a week (these days, apprentices graduate with an associate of applied sciences degree). The one is the Heritage class. On the first test, about the Molly Maguires, he was the only one in the class to make 100%.

There were a few of the redneck persuasion in his class that made some bigoted remarks, and he told them off. He decided that he wanted to redo his report to make it about a minority figure, but he wasn’t sure who.

I suggested the famous organizer, Martin Luther King. It was during the course of his organizing activities that he went to Memphis, to help in organizing the sanitation workers there, that he was shot.

He liked the idea. He was unaware that King was an organizer, and wanted to learn more about him. I told him that I would bring him a book of King’s.

I happened to have Strength to Love in my hotel room with me, on my third reading. I didn’t want to give it up, but I took it to him the next morning. I can get another copy.

Another journeyman that breaks in the same area as we do is from Memphis. We talked a bit at lunch about King’s activities shortly before he was shot, and what Memphis was like then.

Reverend King packed some powerful messages into that little book. I would like to share with you some excerpts, but that will have to be at a later time.

One thing that really sticks out to me is his teaching on the Good Samaritan; that the Samaritan said, “Take this, and when I return, I will bring you more.” The teaching is that when we have gone the second mile, we have done no more than what is expected of us. We must go beyond that second mile. That is our calling. Only then can we say that we have done anything.

The other is his teachings on a tough mind and a tender heart. Soft-mindedness and hard-heartedness are both vices that reveal deficiencies of character. A tough mind must be tempered by a tender heart. These two traits are necessary to realize any degree of manliness. We are not those to engage in such perverse inversions that would hold juvenility as manliness; our calling is greater than this, and so much more is expected of us.

He gave them a formula for action, "Be ye therefore as wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." ... We must combine the toughness of the serpent with the softness of the dove, a tough mind and a tender heart.

The tough mind is sharp and penetrating, breaking through the crust of legends and myths and sifting the true from the false. The tough-minded individual is astute and discerning. He has a strong austere quality that makes for firmness of purpose and solidness of commitment.
Who doubts that this toughness is one of man's greatest needs? Rarely do we find men who willingly engage in hard, solid thinking. There is an almost universal quest for easy answers and half-baked solutions. Nothing pains some people more than having to think.

There is little hope for us until we become toughminded enough to break loose from the shackles of prejudice, half-truths, and downright ignorance.

But we must not stop with the cultivation of a tough mind. The gospel also demands a tender heart. ... What is more tragic than to see a person who has risen to the disciplined heights of toughmindedness but has at the same time sunk to the passionless depths of hardheartedness?

If you knew me well, you would understand that I’m not afraid of death. I respect death, and I understand the finality of it; but I’m not afraid of it. I’m afraid of going down without a fight. I’m not about to let that happen, to give myself up over some small act of foolishness. When my time comes, I’m going to make it count.

You see, my grandfather, the one I am named after, was the superintendant of a refinery all the time that I was growing up. I remember being out there in the refinery with him before I had even started school, when I was something like four years old. I can stand on a length of 3” pipe for five hours or better without losing my balance. I understand the dangers well.

I don’t go down easy. And I’m not going down without a fight. When I choose my time, I’m going to make it count.

I’ll tell you more about my grandfather some other day.

Today, I am darned proud of my apprentice, my young brother.

God give me the strength to watch over him, and to teach him well.

Notes on ‘The Apprentice’

2011-09-07T15:31:00.007-06:00

There are a few things that I glossed over in the first pass. A lot of that had to do with being careful to protect the personal information of another. I’m not nearly as concerned with my own personal information. My tale is a tale of triumph. At any rate, I have always been a particularly honest person, though frankly my strain of honesty has always been tempered with a great deal of flippancy. But if I ever sound dodgy at times, it’s likely a sign that I’m trying to be careful to avoid the appearance of speaking for another.

At any rate, I’m not psychologist. My brother was a psychologist at one time, and I have been dating a psychologist.

However, I have learned a bit about psychology. It is a fairly broad science with several competing theories; the behavioralists, the medicalists, the Freudians, gestalt theory, etc. It’s something similar to auto mechanics, where some only do body work, while others only work on transmissions; except in this instance, everyone believes that they can fix anything.

I prefer the behavioralists; in particular Ernst G. Beier and William Glasser. I like things that can be verified by data.

There is also junk psychology; most notably criticisms of Gardiner’s theory of multiple intelligences have been getting a bit of airing these days— not that it’s absolute crap, mind you; just that it has been bent way out of proportion by others who have seized on it, particularly education professionals. In like manner, there is a wide body of parenting literature that has been seriously skewed by parenting coaches in all manner of media. But I find the fallacy behind that last one to be particularly obvious.

Ok, let’s accept it at face value that to parent children in any other method than the fairly inane one being proffered results in ill-adjusted children who grow up to be pretty screwed up adults. Very well then. Now, unless this parenting coach’s own parents utilized these same fairly inane methods, then it follows that the parenting coach was an ill-adjusted child who grew up to be a pretty screwed up adult. And now we’re asked to believe that this pretty screwed up adult is the best of all possible options to advise us concerning our own decisions.

That sort of thing is what passes for typical Leftist thought in the States. You see, here we have both the right to own a firearm and the right to have an abortion. If you believe that the government shouldn’t be forking over the money to buy people abortions, that’s misogyny; however, if you don’t believe that the government should be forking over the money to buy people firearms, then that’s not anti-firearm in the slightest— in fact, it is held to be quite ridiculous to suggest that the government should be providing people with a personal arsenal, regardless of the rights involved.

Back to behavioralism now.

One thing I wanted to discuss was the young man’s feelings of anger toward his sister for having done herself in; not at all uncommon. Likewise, not uncommon to see suicide described as ‘selfish.’

I disagree.

In the absence of predisposing cultural factors, all persons commit suicide for the very same reason— desperation. Suicide happens when three conditions are met: 1) a person’s current set of coping skills has been strained to the limit, 2) a person possesses inadequate resources to learn new coping skills, and 3) the person is being pressed, either by internal considerations or by external events. Please note that not one of these conditions might be quantified as particularly ‘selfish.’

I had a friend one time that was especially prone to depression. “I hate my life,” he would say. “Bullsh!t,” I would tell him. “You say that, but what you really mean is that you hate the way that you’ve been living your life. And who could blame you? Who on earth would want to go through life living as a jackass? It doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you that you’re feeling that way. It means that something is very, very right with you. The big question is— What are you going to do about it?”

Something I picked up from Glasser.

You see, Glasser worked at the veterans’ hospital in Los Angeles, and he worked extensively with patients with PTSD, and a lot of amputees. One day, he decided to try something a bit different. Instead of asking his patients, “How are you feeling today?” when he made his rounds, he asked, “What are your plans for the day?” There was no solid science behind it at the time; he was just being a bit of a prick and wanted to test the responses. But it brought about results. That’s how behavioralism was born, from humble beginnings.

Whereas the first question brought about a familiar litany of complaints, where only a few would ever get better, the second question gave them a feeling of empowerment— they could do something. And almost all of them got better. He relates that, in 40 years of practice, there were only two patients that he was unable to cure of their depression; both of them were housewives, and both of them were unwilling to do the things necessary to rid themselves of their depression.

But these days, in America anyway, we have the tendency to substitute medication for therapy, and believe that the medication itself is the therapy. In other words, there has been a paradigm shift away from enacting cures to alleviating symptoms.

Along with that, and in the category of ‘junk psychology,’ is the whole ‘troubled teen’ warehousing program. Also from Glasser— real world coping skills can only be learned in a real world situation; a clinical situation can only teach clinical coping skills.

The scam runs like this: Little Johnny is a bad little sh!t, and this kid really needs some professional help. So, off to the warehousing program he goes. Little Johnny gets doped up a bit and starts to get better. But shortly after he’s released, he starts being a little sh!t again, and it’s off to the warehouse for you, you little bastard.

What’s going on is that Little Johnny is only reacting to his environment. It’s typically the whole family that needs therapy. When the kid is out of the sick household and placed in a safe, structured environment, he does ok. As soon as he’s thrown back into the sick household, all hell breaks loose. It’s an endless cycle. But it’s convenient for the parents, because they never have to believe that they might have ever done anything wrong— it’s all his fault, or the fault of some condition that no one really understands. The cure was never at issue. It’s an industry.

Dr. Fricke, the fellow that my brother did his internship with, was a behavioralist. Even though, like all good behavioralists, he believed that ADHD was a syndrome rather than a disorder, he nevertheless diagnosed a lot of kids as having ADHD. Asked about this, he said that the kid obvious had problems, and that giving that diagnosis might be the only chance for that kid to ever get any help.

I wanted to share with you a story about a kid going through an evaluation, but I think I’ll save that for another time.

All pertinent stuff here, but still I feel as if I missed the mark as far as saying what I wanted to say. I’ll let it stand for now.

[UPDATE]:

This is part of what I was forgetting.

While I was writing that last post, there were several text messages exchanged between the apprentice and myself. This is one of them:

Thanks man. I’m very very greatfull (sic) for all of your motivation, pushing me, teaching me, and all over kind hearted hospitality. Means alot man. Let's (sic) me know I'm not always alone

That kid re-invigorated me.

Our Oath obligates me to “assist members of the [Union] to the extent of my ability, defend them when unjustly treated or slandered, and cultivate for each and every member the warmest friendship and brotherly love.”

I’ve done all that with this one apprentice.

I wouldn’t have it otherwise.

The Apprentice

2011-08-27T20:31:00.002-06:00

Not long ago, they sent us some apprentices on the job. Most of these were first-year; and most of the first-years, this was their very first day on the job. There’s one in particular, C., that I’ve seen grow into a good hand. He will do well.

I got paired with a second-year that no one would have wanted. An Iraq War veteran, he received credit for prior military experience. He’s been out at the facility for almost a year, but at another building there where they didn’t let him do much; really, they treated him like he was a joke, and they were pretty mean to him.

To his detriment, his manners earned him some enemies early on with our crew. He joked around too much. He didn’t seem to know how to act in an office environment. He would touch himself while he was talking to his immediate superior.

After he was assigned to me, I didn’t stand for it. “Get your hand off your d!ck. Get your hand off your d!ck.” I would say over and over until he did it, stepping on any conversation in which he might be engaged. He told me later that he didn’t realize that he was doing it; probably the best thing he could have said about it.

There was another fellow with us for a day, B. from Pennsylvania, and we talked to him quite a bit, trying to get through to him. I’ve worked with him for the past two days. There’s been a lot of instruction, a lot of personal talks, and a lot of hard work. I’ve only sworn at him once, when he was distracted by a few ill-timed words from a passer-by that should have known better (he said later that he thought it was me that spoke, and I apologized to him, but repeated the instructions).

In my trade, you’re responsible for your tool partner (we always work in pairs). I couldn’t say it any plainer. You’re responsible for that man, whether you like him or not, whatever else might be going on around you. You’re responsible for yourself and that one other person.

This kid is 21 years old, and he’s been through some hard knocks lately.

About two months ago, his sister killed herself. She was in an abusive relationship that had been going on for years. One night, during an argument, she went into the bedroom and shut the door, pulled out his pistol and shot herself in the head.

The next day, he left work early, and brought flowers to his live-in girlfriend, his high school sweetheart, only to find her in bed with another man.

I know that the single greatest indicator as to whether someone will commit suicide or not is a family history of suicide, and particularly in the immediate family. He’s in a perilous position.

He has quite a bit of anger about his sister’s death, and mixed feelings about his ex. Both of these things are useless, and the sooner he lets go, the better.

I’ve been through similar life experiences.

My dad died less than two months after my 17th birthday. I woke up early that day, and I was waiting for daylight to play my guitar. He knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go quail hunting with him. I had little interest in hunting, but I wanted to go to be with my dad. I’m glad I did, because that morning on the San Miguel was the last day that I spent with him.

He had leg cramps, and he wanted to go home. I talked him into dropping me off at my grandparents’ house, where my older brother lived. The family would gather there on Sundays, and I could see everyone. He got a cup of coffee and left, then had a heart attack on the road to our place, the next town over.

For over ten years, I carried a lot of guilt because of that. I felt that I should have been with him, that if only I could have been there, I could have done something that would made him have live.

It took me many years to accept my human frailty.

I was only a kid. And there was nothing that could have been done, not even if the heart attack would have occurred in a hospital with a team of cardiologists at hand.

But knowing that didn’t stop me from feeling differently for many, many years.

These days, I can look back and be thankful that I wasn’t there when it happened. That would probably have really screwed me up.

Once, there was a woman that I cherished and adored; the most perfect and beautiful woman that I could ever think of. But her character was lacking, and her affections were cheap.

On January the 7th, she told me of how I was the greatest love of her life. In September of that year, she filed charges on me for harassment, for having sent her flowers on her birthday the previous year; some 8 1/2 months to go from the one extreme to the other— the very definition of “cheap affections.”

If a woman is going to sell the farm as soon as you ride out into town, she’s not worth having; plain and simple.

This was a woman perfectly incapable (and perhaps quite literally) of remembering what man she was involved with, other than any man that might happen to be standing in front of her at the time. You can’t build on that. There’s no foundation there. Where the foundation is always subject to revision, it is impossible for any structure to stand (much less to get insurance on it).

There’s a lot that I have to teach my apprentice. I didn’t take him on because I wanted to. It was an obligation to the men of his local that I took him on. I swore an oath.

I know that he’s not going to be there to watch me back. But I’m strong enough to carry him. And carry him I will, whenever I need to. That’s my tool partner.

He’s done more and learned more over the past three days that he has over the last eleven months. I’m not done with him yet, but I know my time is short. There will be another journeyman that comes after me that will take up where I left off. I have to ensure that he is accessible at that time. I just happened to be the right teacher at the right time.

It’s so much easier to shine someone’s spirit that to tear them down, and much more rewarding.

I don’t see why people don’t do it more often.

Debt, Default, and Downgrade

2011-08-15T00:56:00.008-06:00

Here’s my take on the recent “debt crisis” in the US.

For the most part, I support Obama’s position, though there are significant differences in the details. For example, I see the COLA (cost of living adjustment) for Social Security to be a terrible thing, as this in itself generates an expectation of inflation; and now would be a good time to do away with that, considering the total of inflationary pressures lying in wait. For that reason, I see linking the COLA to a variant calculation as being somewhat misguided, though good for reducing the overall growth of entitlement spending. Confining the COLA to three-year adjustments based on incoming revenues would be my choice.

And so, the devil is in the details. Nevertheless, I do prefer the “balanced approach,” whether it’s a 25-75 or 20-80 split.

I don’t place any stock in complaints from the Right that Obama failed to make specific proposals. He already had the Simpson-Bowles commission. As much as Nixon could be said to be void of leadership for advocating block grants to the states, then this same criticism could be said to hold water. But I’m not buying it. Obama is no micro-manager; that’s all.

Nor should he be. The role of management is to delegate authority; and Obama did this well, according to his own management style.

The President also got to make some great speeches. He got a column published in USA Today. Good work. Obama got to play the adult in the room.

His leadership proved to be somewhat ineffective, though I’m not inclined to hold this against him, for reasons I explain below. The radical elements in his own party have undermined his effectiveness. To be clear, these wackos try to define the Democratic Party, but work against every principle of building a “big tent” in their attempts to thrust their unpopular radical agenda on the rest of the nation. Those people are essentially the mirror image of the social conservatives (ie the SoCons) that had their day with the Geo. W Bush presidency. Personally, I would rather have the SoCons.

Boehner did well, too. His stake was much like Obama’s at the end. He presented better leadership than position, but still the radical element in his own party undermined his leadership. Boehner has the potential to be a great. He did well with negotiations.

The rejection of the Boehner plan by the House proved to be a turning point. The addition of a balanced budget amendment ensured that. Now Boehner, like Obama, needs to gain more control over the fringe within his own party. Assessing the matter frankly, I would say that the both of them have little hope in that regard.

Basically, the main issue with a balanced budget amendment is that the calendar year is an arbitrary measure of time to an economic cycle; that is, recessions do not come only in the cold of winter, nor boom times with late spring. Again, perhaps tying something to a three-year span, or to a general statement of principles could suffice. But amendments are a difficult thing to come by, to be sure.

The Senate Leader, Harry Reid, showed profound leadership, mostly by staying quiet and out of the way most of the time. In general, the Senate came out of it looking good, even Mitch McConnell. In fact, it could be said that the Tea Party is so rotten that they make even Mitch McConnell look good.

Which brings me to Michele Bachmann. Loon. Pretty much says it all. Wonder how she’s thinking about default with the huge drop in the Dow after the downgrade. Clueless loon.

Which brings me to the House Democrats. Make no mistake about it— any party stupid enough (ie the House Democrats) to elect the same leader (ie Nancy Pelosi) after losing the majority when that leader was campaigned against so heavily on the national level (as in “the Obama-Reid-Pelosi agenda”) fully deserves to be in the minority. And true to form, Pelosi demonstrated why they deserve to remain in the minority. To her credit, she was willing to compromise for the sake of being able to legislate— at first. Still, the presence of persons such as Pelosi and Wasserman-Schultz in leadership positions necessitates the reactivity of the Tea Party— it practically demands it.

And it occurred to me, that if all this trickle-down bunkum was anything other than hogwash, then tax everyone making less than $500k/yr at an 80% rate, while making everyone with an income over $5 million exempt. Think of what a grand place the world would be! If they really believed that it would make all that much of a difference, they would have done it already.

As for the downgrade, it can be seen as either over-wrought or past due. The depth of the greenback remains unparalleled. When OPEC determines that it would be within their means to issue a common currency for member states, stand back; until then, ho-hum.

From my view, in seeing all of this take place over the past few weeks, what I see in it is the ascendancy of China as the world’s sole superpower; neither good nor bad in itself, just a different method of doing things. In fact, I see a benefit to the West having to reckon with China under her own terms.

And while the news was all abuzz with the downgrade from S&P, quietly and without much to-do at all, China launched her first aircraft carrier into the cool Pacific waters. The earth slightly and almost imperceptibly shifted on its axis, bringing summer to some and winter to others. Prayers were offered up to farmers whose crops had failed in the drought and victims of the heat wave.

The cycle begins anew.

The Psychology of the Lie – Well Wishes for My Stalker

2011-07-07T13:38:00.012-06:00

I remember reading many years ago a magazine article. It was the early 90’s, and I was waiting in a doctor’s office. I sifted through the magazines there as I waited, and selected a copy of Psychology Today. One article in it caught my eye, and I read it through.

It dealt with past relationships, and how one views them. The findings of the researchers concluded that the way that people speak about their exes reflects their views of themselves; that is, when a person speaks negatively about an ex, it is due to the fact that they are feeling bad about themselves, and when a person speaks positively about an ex, it is because they feel positively about themselves.

There were also many other traits shared among the negative group, and each of these traits were negative; while there were also many traits shared among the positive group, and these traits were generally positive. I resolved at that time that I should speak positively concerning my exes, as a rather simple matter of transforming my view, a manner to cultivate those positive traits (results as yet inconclusive).

Now, some would take this as an indication that I might be ready to throw myself at So-and-so’s feet, but that is a one-sided view. Before we go on, let’s say that trustworthiness is a principal virtue.

Over the past few years, I have had a stalker, which is documented in part both here and here. This person was a blogger that I had become intimate with. She began to drink quite heavily in the second year of our relationship, having published some three recipes for cocktails at that time, as well as doing drugs with her brother on occasion.

There was only once that I remember her ever drinking liquor around me. That was one of the times when the former Elizabeth Green came to visit, and had brought a bottle of Grey Goose vodka. We awoke at 9:30 the next morning to find my Sweet Sexy finishing off her second glass of vodka straight—not shots, mind you, but something more like a tumbler. After her father died, her drinking became stronger still, and the first time that I ever saw her vomit was around then. I had to help her up from the floor and into bed.

These days, she enjoys spreading all manner of vicious lies about me. But the fact of the matter is that people generally do not do such things when they are feeling particularly good about themselves (a touch of wisdom from EG).

In general, people lie about things in order to hide the truth of a matter. This does not represent a total breakdown of decency, but rather an indication that a recognition of right and wrong is still active, and a self-condemnation on the part of the liar. For some reason, doing the right thing was not actionable, and so the wrong was chosen; the sense of decency remains active, and the lie is utilized to cover the wrong.

Of course, it would seem as if it is so much easier to do the right thing in the first place; however, in the real world, there are sometimes competing interests which must be allayed.

Now, I was preparing a post for the site I maintain, “The Malfeasance of St. Louis County,” which had a fellow known as “Bob the electrician” as its subject matter. I retrieved with full header information an e-mail dated Wednesday, January 24, 2007. This is where my stalker relates how her mother’s boyfriend of some 30 years had grabbed her and kissed her one day when she was 16; or as she likes to say, “He stuck his tongue in my mouth.”

Although the e-mail says nothing of it, there was another incident which she had related to me. On that occasion, Bob the electrician had given her some type of gift, for which he demanded a kiss as thanks. He came to her darkened room right after she had went to bed, to sit beside her and demand payment while her mother stood at the door, standing guard and encouraging her to relent.

Personally, I am inclined to believe that the involvement of the mother indicates something a bit more far-reaching than the sketch of events here. But it does explain a few things; the history of early drug abuse, depression, anxiety, etc. as well as acting as an influence to her brother’s meth addiction.

Tommy, you didn't see anything
Tommy, you didn't hear anything
Tommy, you won't say anything

(And now, back to our regularly scheduled post...)

Now, so far, much of the subject matter has appeared to be rather sordid; and it is, no doubt. But there would be little reason in bringing it up were that the end of it.

As I have noted previously, the lie is not an indication of the total breakdown of decency. In this case, the lies persist due to the very fact that she is entirely aware that she was in the wrong, and one lie has been built on top of another and another and another, until it would seem as if her whole world would come crashing down if she would dare to so much as whisper the truth.

But this is not the case. Only through being truthful will she be able to come to the intimate realization that all of the terrible wrongs she has done are nothing more than ordinary human frailties, decorated with various accoutrements. And that is true freedom. Many of the people whose opinions she fears so will fall away from her for having dared to speak the truth, but then she will be empowered against the illusory, and see that the rottenness which consumes them renders them unpalatable in the first place. And then the various negative aspects which they brought to her will subside.

I know her well enough to know that she is afraid of such things, but she has an inner strength which she is entirely unaware of; a truly remarkable woman. There is no need for her to believe in those who would have her believe that she is rotten and weak and horrid. Their very strength relies upon her believing those things, and so they feed her those beliefs, and often in subtle fashion.

But I remember the day that she and I went to The Pie Pantry in Belleville for an early lunch, and I held her hand as we walked down the street. The wind was blowing through her hair and ruffled her skirt, and the sun was bright. I remember looking at her and thinking that I was one lucky guy to be the one to hold her hand. It was then that I understood that there is nothing better for a man than to be with a woman that he totally respects, something lasting that I carry with me to this day.

Now, I don’t mean to lightly excuse any manner of wrongdoing and excess. As surely as night follows day, there will be a price to be paid. What I’m driving at here is that isn’t the whole of the story. The goodness that I loved her for remains. I have assurance of this, because still she lies.

Like Hellen of old, to me she remains the most perfect and beautiful woman to walk the face of the earth. And like so many before her, deeply flawed.

No, I am not overly-optimistic about things. But I do understand that, at times, I am pleasantly surprised by the turn of events.

I do hope that she finds her strength some day.

New Project

2011-06-13T07:27:00.009-06:00

There is a new project that I have turned my hand to, that has come to occupy a bit of what little free time I have available.

There is a feral cat that has taken up not far from me. She had a litter of kittens there, four of them. Here are two of them.

I called around last week to find try to find a no-kill shelter to take the kittens to. They will likely be split into two different shelters.

I will take the mama kitty in to get spayed in two weeks, paying for it out of my own pocket.

She's really not as friendly as she looks here.

They are living underneath an old trailer. Not enough room for me to crawl under.

I laid down some plastic, and spread out some old clothes on top of it to make them a bed. That way, they will get used to my smell.

On the weekends, these cats drink bottled water and eat sausage and sardines. But they have a rough go of it ahead of them.

Animals I care for, because we have a responsibility to them. I call this "good stewardship."

People I can only help, but not care for, as they have a responsibility to themselves. I call this "maintaining the fence," ie non-encroachment.

Animals have very few rights, while people have many. Were people to desire the degree of caring which I am obligated to provide to animals, then those rights must first be forfeited.

But I would prefer to strip no one of their rights, nor do I desire to encroach upon another.

Believing such a thing prohibits me from being a liberal in any way.

Old Bessie’s Last Days

2011-06-03T05:01:00.001-06:00

What you see here is the most polluting power station in the United States. It was built in 1917, and commissioned a few years later. It generates 175 MW, which it delivers to two counties. It is known as Old Bessie.

From a bit different view.

At the bottom left, you see a part of the coal bed, above which is the coal handling area. Directly in front of the hoppers is the stack. To my knowledge, the hoppers are a part of the sulfur removal system, and indicate that Old Bessie has undergone at least one retrofit.

Here is another photograph which shows the coal bed.

Old Bessie will be decommissioned in late 2012, due to the fact that a new power station is being built nearby. This new power station will provide 3 1/2 times as much power, to be delivered to five counties, with near-zero carbon emissions.

It does this by means of a gasification system. The coal is pulverized, and then introduced to pressure, steam, and a chemical cocktail; something like a giant espresso machine. Most of the carbon is removed at this point, and sent to the pits, where it is sold off for asphalt manufacture. The liquid is piped to an evaporative column and refined to its component gases. Mercury, sulfur, and other contaminants are removed at this point. The gases are mixed with other chemicals, and are then known as “syngas.” It is this syngas which fuels the boiler, which powers the generator. This particular unit is equipped with two HRSG’s.

This is the fourth power plant that I’ve worked on, although my background is more in refineries and chemical plants; the third coal-fired power plant.

The first power station where I worked was a gas-fired peaking station. I worked mainly instrumentation there.

The second was a marvel of modern science which marked the introduction of Japanese technology in the United States; the second of its type in North America, as they had built one two years earlier in Southern Alberta, Genesee No. 3. An engineering model for the Genesee unit:

There a quite a few innovations here. At almost every part of the plant there is some type of new technology which had never before been seen in the US.

At 790 MW, this is the first of the large-capacity supercritical boilers of its type in the US. It utilizes a spiral waterwall rather than the conventional vertical waterwall. It is designed for sliding pressure operation, unlike the conventional super-critical units built in the US. There are a number of sensors along the waterwall which direct a rotating water cannon, enabling it to knock off slag on the fly.

The water treatment system employs a different type of chemicals, which was developed in Germany. The burner is designed with lower stoichiometric ratio, specifically for the low-sulfur bituminous coal of the Powder River Basin, which is classified as a severe slagging fuel. It produces lower NOx content. It exceeded anticipated efficiency during the testing phase.

The turbine is different. It was redesigned to be more efficient. The vortex nozzle is of a newer design, resulting in increased efficiency. 10 – 15 % of the efficiency of the turbine is a direct result of the redesign of the last stage blade. This required the introduction of newer types of steel, which required a few innovations in its manufacture. An overlay method of welding is required for the main bearings rather than the traditional sleeve method. The valves also require high-chromium steel. The axle of the turbine undergoes such severe stress during the start-up phase that it warps. There’s no way around it. Another device at one end bends the axle back into true on the fly.

There is also a urea pad there which produces ammonia on-site (an American technology).

The air quality control systems (AQCS) employ various designs based on the Japanese technology, including an SDS structure with a lime slurry. A portion of revision 9 of the prints was finalized according to my specifications.

I also worked in the turbine area, on the cooling system, and on the hydro-testing.

The second coal-burner that I worked on was of similar design. That one drew water from Lake Michigan, cleaned it up for use in the boiler, and then returned it later. It was engineered for zero particulate emissions, and is currently one of the 10 cleanest coal-fueled power plants in the nation.

I fractured my knee while I was there. They told me that it was a sprain, and I put ice on it twice a day. I went to work for five days on a broken knee until they finally sent me in for an MRI and discovered the fracture; and let me be clear about this-- I’m not some blowhard that stands around giving lectures all day-- I actually work for a living. That earned me the nickname of “Iron Will.” That seems to have followed me. I didn’t care for it so much at first, but now I’ve warmed up to it a bit.

I worked on the condenser units, the water treatment system, and on a part of the SDS system (AQCS) as part of the start-up crew.

I was encouraged by one of the older field engineers that I was working with to submit my resume to the company as field engineer (we had a somewhat lengthy discussion on the chemical properties of lime vs. chalk one day). He offered to give me a good reference. I determined for myself that I wanted to work at one more coal-burner before I did. Taking Old Bessie offline will mark my one.

I know a little bit about clean coal technology.

I know about what’s in place now, and I know something about what’s coming up.

The use of target-specific ionic liquids (TSILs) will become more common as the need to reduce carbon emissions becomes more urgent. The abstract from two papers on the subject follows here:

Performance of nitrile-containing anions in task-specific ionic liquids for improved CO2/N2 separation

Mahurin, S. M. Lee, J. S. Baker, G. A. Luo, H. Dai, S. 2010-01-01

This work explores the performance of a series of ionic liquids that incorporate a nitrile-containing anion paired to 1-alkyl-3-methylimidazolium cations in tailoring the selectivity and permeance of supported ionic liquid membranes for CO2/N2 separations. The permeance and selectivity of three ionic liquids, each with an increasing number of nitrile groups in the anion (i.e., two, three, and four), were measured using a non-steady-state permeation method. By predictably varying the molar volume and viscosity of the ionic liquids, we show that the solubility, selectivity, and permeance can be optimized for CO2/N2 separation through controlled introduction of the nitrile functionality into the anion. Of the three nitrile-based ionic liquids studied, 1-ethyl-3-methylimidazolium tetracyanobor...

Design and Evaluation of Ionic Liquids as Novel CO2 Absorbents

Maginn, Edward 2007-07-15

This is the final report for project DE-FG26-04NT42122 'Design and Evaluation of Ionic Liquids as Novel CO{sub 2} Absorbents'. The objective of this 'breakthrough concepts' project was to investigate the feasibility of using ionic liquids for post-combustion CO{sub 2} capture and obtain a fundamental understanding of the solubility of CO{sub 2} and other components present in flue gas in ionic liquids. Our plan was to obtain information on how composition and structure of ionic liquid molecules affected solubility and other important physical properties via two major efforts: synthesis and experimental measurements and molecular simulation. We also planned to perform preliminary systems modeling study to assess the economic viability of a process based on ionic liquids. We accomplished all the milestones and tasks specified in the original proposal. Specifically, we carried out extensive quantum and classical atomistic-level simulations of a range of ionic liquids. These calculations provided detailed information on how the chemical composition of ionic liquids affects physical properties. We also learned important factors that govern CO{sub 2} solubility. Using this information, we synthesized or acquired 33 new ionic liquids. Many of these had never been made before. We carried out preliminary tests on all of these compounds, and more extensive tests on those that looked most promising for CO{sub 2} capture. We measured CO{sub 2} solubility in ten of these ionic liquids. Through our efforts, we developed an ionic liquid that has a CO{sub 2} solubility 2.6 times greater than the 'best' ionic liquid available to us at the start of the project. Moreover, we demonstrated that SO{sub 2} is also extremely soluble in ionic liquids, opening up the possibility of using ionic liquids to remove both SO{sub 2} and CO{sub 2} from flue gas. In collaboration with Trimeric Inc., a preliminary systems analysis was conducted and the results used to help identify physical properties that must be optimized to enable ionic liquids to be cost-competitive for CO{sub 2} capture. It was found that increasing the capacity of the ionic liquids for CO{sub 2} would be important, and that doing so could potentially make ionic liquids more effective than conventional amine solvents.

That’s the sort of thing that I’m talking about.

You don’t have to do the chemistry yourself. There are other people more knowledgeable that are working on it. I get it with an MSDS sheet and a spec sheet.

I also know a bit about the system that TSILs require. I have a pretty good idea of how the chemicals will enter the system and how they will be monitored (by the pH level of the outflow, the same as with the SDS). I already know this system. A few of the specifics remain a range of options.

However, the belief that clean coal technology is even remotely viable prohibits me from being anything approaching a liberal. It’s simply not a part of their agenda. It makes me hated among progressives. While telling me that they love “Science” so much, they really don’t seem to have much of a grasp of it on a practical level.

Nevertheless, I believe in what I do. It coincides with my concept of good stewardship.

I am in the business of making the world a better place. That’s what I do.

And anyone that doesn’t like it can kiss my ass.

The Rise of Conservatism

2011-05-29T11:52:00.004-06:00

Although I have no desire to have a political blog, I have no intention of shying away from such topics as would be especially prominent. Now, the very purpose of starting this new blog, as agreed between the former Elizabeth Green and myself, was to provide a forum for those things positive, enlightening, uplifting, and beneficial. I believe this meets at least a few of those criteria.

Take a look at this chart, if you would. This is from some lengthy test that provides a visual representation of one’s overall political position. I have taken similar tests over a number of years, going back at least nine years, and I always seem to have similar results.

As you can see, this places me roughly halfway to the Left and a third of the way to libertarian on positions; a gross simplification of course, but somewhat useful nevertheless.

Which is to say, this graph has charted me squarely as a conservative. I am but a mere halfway to the Left on positions, and with notable libertarian tendencies (that’s the Westerner in me showing). In fact, there is no other option for me other than to be a conservative, as I am more to the Right than the last three squares to the Left.

Here’s how I match up against the 2008 primary candidates:

This shows that I am right about where Ralph Nader stands, although he is a bit to the Right of me and a bit less libertarian. I know practically nothing of Nader’s political views; only that he has outlived his usefulness.

I liked Kucinich and Dodd to a far lesser extent. I voted for McCain. I felt he would be the better president, and that the Republican Party would do well under his leadership. I felt that Obama would be a better administrator, and particularly in the area of cabinet assignments. I like Obama as President. I felt that Richardson had the best energy policy.

To be fair, I know practically nothing about Tancredo, Hunter, or Gravel. I know little of Keyes, but I consider him to be a wacko. I would vote for Giuliani’s opponent, regardless of who it might be.

Now, the old-style principled liberals I can deal with; but I consider the new wave of ‘progressives’ to be the most amoral and corrupt of persons — and for good reason. I say ‘amoral’ rather than ‘immoral,’ due to the fact that one is required to possess some form of morality in order to be properly immoral.

I have no use for supply-side economics, and hearken back to the elders of the Reagan and Nixon administrations —David Stockman, Peter G. Peterson, and Bruce Bartlett. I consider the Chicago School to be aberrated as well.

At one time, I considered myself to be quite to the Left. My first great falling out with them had to do with their insistence that the denial of equitable representation for racial minorities was not only acceptable, but preferable in staking out their policy positions. I call that horrific.

I no longer refer to myself as an “environmentalist” because I abhor what that word has become. Instead, I prefer to call myself a “naturalist” or a “preservationist.” As far as I can tell, environmentalists are nothing more than a group of morons incapable of anything other than asinine opinions and opposed to practical action, all the while berating others, supposedly in the name of their God, “Science,” of which they know little.

So, briefly, it would be fair to expect that, from time to time, a short essay might appear explaining my position on various matters to the end of providing an explanation as to why it is quite impossible for me to be anything other than a conservative. I was going to do that here, but the preamble became a bit lengthy. Fancy that.

But to be clear, when someone that far to the Left can be nothing other than a conservative, then the Left has already met their doom. The rise of conservatism is inevitable.

Merc’s Somewhat Definitive Guide to Styx (abbreviated version), and Then Some

2011-04-10T05:25:00.004-06:00

With mention being made of Styx in the comments recently, I thought it would be wise to direct the thoughts of those so inclined away from their more crappy albums before that became something of an issue.

And definitely, Styx released a lot of crap; though they tended to do so as a full album's worth of crap, instead of The Who syndrome, which entails releasing one or two good songs per album, with the rest of it being total crap (Who Are You being completely non-ordinary for that band).

At any rate, Styx was my favorite band at one time, back when I was 18 or 19. This is some of the good Styx that I remember:

Here are how the Styx albums break down according to Merc:

The Curulewski years:
Styx - B, about 2/3 good
Styx II - C
The Serpent Is Rising - A
Man of Miracles - F-, for use as a coaster only
Equinox - A

The Tommy Shaw years:
Crystal Ball - F
The Grand Illusion - A
Pieces of Eight - A
Cornerstone - B-

Crap you would never want to listen to:
The rest of Styx, as far as I know, is a lot of crap; the sole exception being Big Bang Theory. I haven't listened to all of these, and how could I possibly be expected to after Paradise Theater and Kilroy Was Here? Anyway, here's the rest of it.
Paradise Theater - F-, for use as a clay pigeon only - being a coaster is too good for it
Kilroy Was Here - F-, total crap
Edge of the Century - ?
Brave New World - ?
Cyclorama - ?
Big Bang Theory - A

Now, I don't sit around and listen to a lot of Styx these days. No, these days, it's Wishbone Ash. Before that, I was listening to a lot of Jon Spencer and Eric Gales, and before that UK and Gentle Giant.

But here's some really good Wishbone Ash for you. They sound a lot like Buffalo Springfield would have if they would have been more of a progressive rock band and less of a folk band. It would probably sound better if Rush were playing it along about the Caress of Steel days, but it's pretty good as it is without the crunch.

Hope you've enjoyed it.

Snowflakes

2011-03-12T05:22:00.006-06:00

I now have access to the sidebar over there; which means we will be seeing a few changes.

The first of the sites that I've chosen to add is Stuff White People Like. Not only is it very funny, it is also very accurate.

Take a gander at this:

White people can do powerful things with their eyes: casting judgment, indicating scorn, and obnoxiously rolling them when someone says something they don’t agree with. Yet in spite of these powers, they are not immune to the dangers of the sun. So white people must wear sunglasses. But what may surprise you is that while white people will spend upwards of three months finding a perfect pair of unique prescription glasses, they have no such requirement for sunglasses....

These sunglasses are so popular now that you cannot swing a canvas bag at a farmers market without hitting a pair. In fact, at outdoor gatherings you should count the number of Wayfarers so you can determine exactly how white the event is....

Under no circumstances, should you imply that white people purchased their sunglasses because of celebrities that are not dead or because they saw them on other white people they think are cool. This will make them very upset as white people need to believe that they cannot be persuaded to buy anything.

Saying something like “man, it’s pretty amazing how 65 people at this outdoor concert all decided to get their sunglasses at exactly the same time,” should only be directed at a white person who is not wearing Wayfarers. This will make them feel better about not fitting in, but it will also make them self conscious about their plan to buy a pair.

(Note: a significant amount of white women are still wearing oversized sunglasses but they are a dying breed.)

So incredibly true.

Or this:

Depending on the coolness of the white person, they can experience this stage anywhere between the sixth grade and their last year of college. Regardless of when they went through this phase, every white person can tell you about the time when they had Legend on repeat. If you wish to test this theory, go to any floor in a College Dorm and there is a 100% chance you will find at least one Bob Marley poster....

Since so many people are into Bob Marley, it is only natural for advanced white people to profess to only marginally liking Bob Marley (note: it is impossible for a white person to outright dislike him). Instead, these white people will claim to preferring more obscure artists like Burning Spear or Peter Tosh.

But be warned that a white person saying they like “reggae” what they really mean is “reggae from 1965-1983.”

Under no circumstances should you ever bring a white person to a dancehall reggae concert, it will frighten them.

Note: if you are talking to a white person who is really into Bob Marley, has dreadlocks, and professes to be a Rastafarian, you should end the conversation immediately. These people are of no value unless you need directions to a WTO protest or have questions about how bad a human can smell.

Of course, this is not simply a matter of race, but a matter of culture. If you're not an American, and you're not a 'progressive,' then you will find that very little would apply.

But to those of you who are both American and progressive, or for those who wish to appear to be more white (because to white people, appearances are everything), you will find this site extremely informative as to how to act, eg superficial. It is also helpful for understanding white people better, for employment or personal purposes.

Enjoy!

Rhubarb

2011-03-06T17:58:00.005-06:00

The rhubarb's been peeking out a bit.

Nibs took to light a week or so ago, got covered with snow, and none the worse for wear.

A bit hard to see with the crappy cell phone cam, but there's three of them here in the photo.

It speaks of good things to come.

Listen at Your Own Risk

2011-03-01T03:27:00.004-06:00

Some of you may already know about my songwriting partner, PJ.

If not, then:
Songwriter -- PJ -- blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, we were at this place called The Eclipse, and I grabbed the mike and went into one of these long rants. Usually that's a bad sign-- like I get the crowd all worked up to hear some Van Halen, then whistle a few bars before going immediately into something else-- but this time it went over really well. In fact, I think we've got a winner.

You see, a few years back, I had written this song, and there was a terrible backlash against it. There was a school board member from the St. Louis Public School District that took me to court to have this song declared illegal. Crazy, isn't it?

But nevertheless, the State declared this song to be illegal, on the basis that it may well cause people to commit suicide. Pop/punk can affect some people like that, I hear. Go figure.

Of course, everyone wants to hear it, just to see if they can withstand it.

You see, long ago, I had studied ancient Pythagorean texts to unveil hidden meaning and bring to light that ancient knowledge. The essence of creation-- the progression of Life Itself-- lies encoded in sonic substratum that penetrates into the inner reaches of the cerebral cortex and into the hippocampus, where these infernal tones and deft modulations incline and compel all who hear into certain destruction.

Fantastic stuff.

When the State declares my guitar to be an instrument of death, I just can't pass it up.

I warned them:
"All you here who dare to stay..."

They did.

Of course they did.

Every one of them was willing to risk their own life in order to hear that song.

PJ has been working on setting up a YouTube channel (because I am disinclined to subscribe to practically anything), and I'll see about getting some video up for you soon.

But you listen at your own risk.

You were warned.

Poet Laureate

2011-02-20T02:40:00.010-06:00

Almost everyone with even a passing familiarity with Lindsay has come to know his verse. His poetry appears intermittently at his blog, Lindsay's Lobes, as well in the comment sections of various sites he visits. Always pleasant to see a bit of verse in the comments, you know.

So, we here are Shakespeare's Cousin, which in this case means myself acting unilaterally, have determined to recognize the poet Lindsay Byrnes as our poet laureate.

And to Lindsay, I present to you this wreath of laurel:

Well done.

BONUS:

And here you can see our poet laureate at a few of his more colorful moments.

Uranium

2011-02-01T13:44:00.007-06:00

One of my orders went out on limit today, so I'm feeling pretty good. I realized a 28% profit on that deal in 12 weeks. This was after I realized an 18% profit in 4 weeks on a portion of the initial lots.

So, I did pretty good.

And I've been reading a lot about other mining interests since that time, because I have some loose liquidity shaking around in my account.

Capitalism kicks ass.

U₃O₈ is sitting around $70/lb. right now. It was below $50 at the first of October.

It had ran up to $138 about four years ago.

This company, Denison Mines, is a Toronto-based company that had announced an exploratory success in the Athabasca region of Saskatchewan (Wheeler River) where winter drilling has already begun.

Seeking Alpha has some data on the costs of insitu mining U3O8:

One development with respect to uranium miners is a newer style of mining. Insitu recovery is a noninvasive mining process that reverses the natural deposit process. Existing groundwater fortified with oxygen leaches the uranium from within sands. The leached solution is then passed over ion exchange resin to recover uranium. After the cycle is completed the ground water is returned to its premined state. The important part of this process for shareholders is its cost effectiveness. In many cases uranium miners can get the price of mining down to around $40 per pound.

That $40/lb. is important. U₃O₈ hit $40/lb. early in 2006, when it advanced steadily from $15/lb. in early 2004. Going back the 15 years before that, it stayed within the range of $7 - $17 / lb.

Those are the numbers.

So, historically, insitu mining was cost-prohibitive. (Incidentally, I remember reading in 2003 that the company required pricing of $50/bbl. as a minimum to make extraction of the oil sands in Alberta economically feasible.)

Some other interesting information from the Seeking Alpha article:

Currently there are 436 nuclear reactors operating. 53 are under construction. 142 are planned. 327 have been proposed....

There are currently 104 nuclear reactors on line [in the United States]. These reactors require 43.1 million pounds annually. Currently the miners in the United States only produce 3.2 million pounds.

Currently in the US, we are seeing a rise in electricity prices, for a number of reasons.

What I would like to point out here is that, in 2003, no one saw that price spike coming when U₃O₈ would sell at 10 times its historical price.

It's going to hit there again.

I've been around long enough to know that for a certainty.

But there are so many things which are never taken into account when laying things out on the table. We need some honest numbers.

I've cut out part 2 of the post on Democrats, but I will get to that shortly. For now, let's say that the post is about uranium, not having valid data to work from, and somehow leads into Democrats.

Tracks

2011-01-29T13:04:00.007-06:00

From the crappy cell phone cam.

This shows that the deer was walking at a leisurely gait, from left to right.

A deer passed from the left to the right, while a smaller animal passed from the bottom to the top. The second set of tracks was heading toward the beaver dam, but the tracks are too small to be beaver. Too indistinct to tell for certain, but likely raccoon. I say they're raccoon tracks.

Those things that look like little raisins laying around is actually deer spoor.

Christmas

2011-01-04T02:24:00.001-06:00

I would like to show you a bit of what I did over the holidays.

This is a kitten that ended up in the wrong place. She ended up in someone’s barn, and they were ready to blast her with a shotgun. I spent two hours chasing that cat through the barn trying to catch her. Saved at last, and not for the last time.

Because once they had her she could easily be dumped out in the snow somewhere. And that just didn’t sound like the proper thing to be doing. So, I took her up, tucked her into my jacket, and took her off to the clinic. I had to find a place for her, but first things first.

I had to keep her in my car overnight before the clinic would take her. By then, I had already found a no-kill shelter to take her in. I could have boarded her at the clinic, but I felt she would benefit from being touched by human hands a bit before going out to be adopted.

She had been living in a barn for about two or three months. She kept to herself, and hid from people. When I was trying to catch her, she never clawed or bit at me even once. I knew that this was no wild cat, but someone’s pet who had gotten lost somehow.

She was evasive for the first day and a half after I caught her, and would curl up to hide whenever someone would come around. I would stuff her inside my coat and unzip it to where she could look out. She liked that. After I got a bit of food in her, she warmed right up.

The girls at the clinic were all excited about her. She was such a friendly little kitty, even right after her surgery. She would rub up against the bars of her cage whenever they got anywhere close to her. The name on the chart said, “Barn Cat,” and it said she was wild; but everyone could see that this was no wild cat.

I had her spayed and treated for ear mites, and she was good to go.

I took her to the shelter the next day, and she seemed to settle in well. The next day, she was throwing up a bit, but there was no inflammation around the stitches, and she was in good spirits. The poor thing was starving, and wasn’t used to having food around to eat. I thought she might eat herself sick, and I had metered the food out a bit to help her keep it down. But when she could have all she wanted, she couldn’t get enough.

I would go up once or twice a day to spend some time with her; out of the cage and stuffed into the coat, where I would walk her around a bit and pet her. I had to keep moving every so often, or she would get a bit jumpy. When the starter went out on my car, I walked up to see her.

I got to know a few of the other kitties up there, and stop to say ‘hello’ to them. There are two kittens that are a pair. The one has visions problems, is blind in one eye, and his sister doesn’t want to let him out of her sight. Her brother had to go to the clinic this weekend because he had a cold, so she needed a bit of extra attention. There is another one, a mama kitty whose kittens had all been adopted out, and she’s sort of going through an empty-nester phase. Friendly little thing.

At any rate, when I went up yesterday to visit her, she wasn’t in her cage. I was concerned maybe that she was throwing up again or something. But when I asked about her, a call was made, and I was told that she had been adopted out that day.

A young couple was walking through there looking at the kitties, and this one came up and started rubbing up against her cage. When they opened it up, she meowed at them and stepped right into her hands, and it was a done deal. “It was a good mesh,” I was told.

I’m happy for them. I’m happy for the little calico that found a family to love her, and I’m happy for the family that just expanded. But I can’t help but think about the little boy or girl that lost their kitten before I found her. I wish I could go back to tell them that she is going to be ok.

Now, I was thinking about this anyway, due to a post that Lindsay had up, or the comments there that came up; but although you hear people complaining about the commercialization of Christmas every year, it’s really this aspect of it that removes it from being solely in the hands of the Puritans set apart from everyone else. As the saying goes, it’s not a bug, but a feature. This is what gives non-Christians the toe in the door to come in and enjoy the celebration as well.

And this year, it gave that little calico a chance to share in the celebration of redemption.

And the family that she went to, and the little boy or girl that lost their kitten a few months back.

Happy holidays!

Rockview

2010-12-29T00:54:00.023-06:00

I had to make another copy of Less Than Jake's classic album Hello, Rockview to carry around in my car with me.

I got to thinking that there are an awful lot of these songs that have been my favorite song at one time or another. And, of course, to catalogue each one.

Unfortunately, the iMusic app has ended, so this one is going to have a few videos; but only because YouTube doesn't suck quite as much as iMusic. I never could get that thing to work in WordPress anyway.

So here goes. You'll just have to learn to live without my fantastic aural exciter and stereo separation skills.

One of the coolest songs ever.

This is the official video:

The intro is different in the video than it is on the album. I had to track down a version with the album intro:

One of the enduring favorites:

This one speaks to me:

Chris sings the first verse here, and Roger the second.

A great punk tune:

Another great song:

That's it. Each of these songs have been my favorite song at one time or another.

Not a bad piece of work.

A New Movement

2010-12-02T07:17:00.005-06:00

I am pleased to announce the founding of a new movement in art.

Late 2010 has marked the beginning of monochromatic art.

Which is, basically, exactly what it sounds like-- the use of only one color.

You see, you take one single color, apply it to the medium-- whether brush, knife or roller-- and spread it all over the canvas in some artistic sort of way.

Monochromism.

Very cutting edge.

Further, the movement has now spread into other media, and is now taking over the literary world.

Here's a short piece I wrote, entitled "The Era of Enlightenment."

And and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and

This only led to further developed monochromatic literary works, such as the following, "The Shoes of Imelda Marcos."

Or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or or

Well, there's only so much culture that I care to exhibit in a single post, and so that will have to do it for now. Perhaps later I will share some of the most extraordinary and cutting-edge artwork-- all rendered with a single color.

Yes, monochromism is on the move.

Mead in the Bottle

2010-11-17T23:36:00.011-06:00

It's about time for some news you can use.

Today's topic is mead-making.

To make a bit of mead, you need: some honey, some water, a bit of yeast, & lots of time.

My own method is a bit more lengthy, but this works well for a single bottle.

First of all, avoid sulfides. If the bottle you have states on it, "Contains sulfides," this is unacceptable.

These sulfides are the product of metabisulfites of potassium or sodium. If you've never been around it, this stuff can lay you out cold if you catch a good whiff of it. It's used as a preservative and a sanitizer, and it's particularly caustic.

It also gives you headaches in the morning.

So, if the bottle says, "Contains sulfides," you need to get rid of them. Rinse the bottle out really good, and look through the top into the bottom to make sure there's no residue. You can cook the bottle in an oven on a low heat for a bit to sanitize it.

Here's a verified procedure for a 750 ml bottle.

Take about 2 cups of water and boil it for 20 minutes (with a lid over low heat, so you end up with near the same volume). In this operation, you're sanitizing the water and releasing chlorides. You don't want any chlorine in your final product (although certain chlorides are desirable-- long story, and I'm not going into it here).

When that water has gone its time, dump 1 cup of honey into the water. Stir it up, and let it cool. Filling a sink with cold water and setting the pan into it works well. You need a thermometer to make sure that it's below 80F (26C) before proceeding to the next step. (I like mine to be a bit below 70F)

Now, get all that into your 750 ml bottle, and put a bit of yeast on it. You want the bottle to be about 2/3 full at this point.

For yeast, it's better to bake with brewer's yeast than to brew with baker's yeast. Liquid yeast runs about $8 a pack, and it's enough to give you 5 gallons (19L). Dry yeast costs around 47¢ a packet, and about enough to give half that amount. The liquid has more variety, but the dry does just fine. Use half a packet if you go for the dry.

After you get your yeast into the bottle, wrap the top with a bit of foil. Put a balloon over it, or a plastic bag. Anything to keep things from falling into the stuff; and we're talking about a microbiology level here.

Store it in a place with a stable temperature, and the colder the better, at least down to 64F (17C) or so. (Mine is kept at 68F)

It will foam up quite a bit for a few days, and then the foam will fall in. That foam is your 'krausen,' and that's why you fill the bottle only halfway full to begin with.

After the krausen has fallen, boil up a bit more water, cool it down, and fill your fermentation vessel up to about a thumb's breadth from the top.

When it's done, the yeast will drop out (flocculate), and the liquid will be bright and clear. That tells you it's time to do away with the foil and cap the stuff, chill it, and imbibe.

But don't get too excited. It's going to take a month-and-a-half to two months to do it.

Now, there's a lot more to it that what I've told you, but I've told you right.

The honey is better not boiled, and it helps to cool the boiling water. It needs to stay above 170F for 10 minutes to sanitize it.

More attention should be paid to following the instructions than questioning them.

For yeast, there's Lalvin and Red Star which are readily available at any brew shop or online distributor. A white wine yeast works best.

I was going to publish this recipe for the gruit which flavored Queen Elizabeth's mead, but now I've taken a mood. Maybe in the comments somewhere.

EDIT: And I had forgotten this earlier, but honey is deficient in magnesium, which the yeast needs in trace amounts to ensure proper growth. If you have tap water or well water, then you have plenty of magnesium already. If you're using filtered or distilled water, two to three grains of epsom salts is essential to ensure proper attenuation.

Taxation

2010-11-10T04:18:00.009-06:00

Updated with links.

No, I have no inclination to write a political blog; I want to look at the economic theory.

Here's three examples of completely misguided economics from the last campaign cycle.

1). I was listening to the radio, and they were talking to various Tea Party candidates. The one fellow was saying that, if elected, he would go to Congress and cut taxes all morning, then leave in the afternoon, because his work would be done.

It should be obvious that this person is not qualified to win a primary, much less a general election.

And mind you, this is at a time when taxes relative to GDP are at the lowest level since the early 1980's.

Were this view anywhere near correct, then we should be in the midst of the biggest economic boom in living memory.

2). Recently, I watched as Rep. Mike Pence of Indiana was interviewed on some tv show alongside David Stockman, Reagan's Office of Management and Budget director. Pence was sitting there saying that another tax cut was needed in order to spur economic growth.

Now, that big stimulus package that they're crying about was 27% tax cuts. Reputable sources tell me that tax reduction is an inefficient form of stimulus.

While Pence referenced Reagan again and again, Stockman was sitting there shooting him down on every point. Nevertheless, Pence and his ilk will never tire of beating the dead horse of the Reagan legacy, even as more and more people from the Reagan years come out to denounce their current position as wrong-headed.

UPDATE: Here's a link to a write-up and the video. The video gets interesting about two minutes in. A little over nine minutes in, Pence is visibly uncomfortable. The interviewer is Christiane Amanpour.

3). On a particular site I like to visit, there was, not long ago, a fellow there spewing some rant over the "Keynesianism" of the Federal Reserve's bond-buying program known as QE2 (and all of the socialist Obama appointees at the Fed).

I had to point out that this is, in fact, a monetarist policy that has nothing to do with Keynes. This is straight Milton Friedman. And the Senate has been blocking Obama appointees to where there are open seats at the Fed. This "socialism" is being wrought by a monetarist policy enacted by Bush appointees.

UPDATE: Volker: QE2 "ambiguous;" which is a bit kinder than Stockman's "madmen out of control" remark.

There's just a few examples from over the past month that should serve to show how widespread the misinformation is.

A word about the Laffer Curve here.

Basically stated, at a 0% rate of taxation and at a 100% rate of taxation, there is no revenue generated. Revenue is generated only between those two points. Somewhere between those two points is an optimal level that produces the most income at the highest level of economic activity.

I believe there has been too much debate over what that optimal level might be. Regardless of what is optimal, incoming revenue must meet the outlays of cash. That's called "solvency."

I would like to note that the Laffer Curve was never intended to address the issue of solvency. There are two axes on the graph, and neither one of them are "solvency."

But the current level of misinformation inclines me toward some degree of skepticism that the issue might be addressed in a rational manner any time soon.

Election Day

2010-11-02T16:35:00.006-06:00

The big mid-term around these parts today.

It's being billed as some sort of big realignment, but that's all a crock.

If it's a realignment to anything, it's a realignment to sensibility.

Now, I'm no Tea Partier or anything. I don't care to be.

I did vote against taxation though, twice.

There was a Constitutional Amendment up to exempt former prisoners of war with total service disability from property taxes. I considered the matter, and determined that, if we had yet to find the money in the budget to afford this, then we ought to, and soon.

There was an amendment to do away with city earnings taxes. It's just that I believe that any subsidies these cities need to coexist should best be handled at the state level. More sunlight on the big hill.

I voted for the Libertarian candidate for Senator. Two big dynasties from the state competing. It was really a vote against dynastic politics, and I chose the Pissing in the Wind candidate.

Yes, for all the calls for a Third Party in the US, the fact of the matter is we already have a Pissing in the Wind Party.

Several judges were up for election. I wasn't familiar with any of them, so I didn't vote for or against any one.

Assessors and Auditors up for election. I would rather have a Republican for Assessor and a Democrat for the Auditor. That's just the way our political system works.

I voted to criminalize puppy mills. It was the right thing to do. All living things are deserving of respect.

And of course, the big national scene....

It seems likely that the Democrats with lose the lower chamber. So much the better.

Not that the Republicans will do much better. But it would initiate two very important changes.

First, it would allow Pelosi to go back to being a solid representative rather than a ham-handed parliamentarian. She would serve her party better in that capacity.

Secondly, it would cause the Republicans, under the leadership of John Boehner, an exceptionally adept parliamentarian, to actually assume some manner of leadership role. Once the bonfires die down, the adults will speak. I think that Boehner has the capacity to lead the House in opposition along the lines of Tip O'Neill as House Leader during the Reagan years.

And then, maybe the Left can come to terms that their hyperbole was overstated, and get to building support for their ideas.

Better all the way around.

I didn't vote for Obama, but I like him as President. I don't think he's done much differently than what McCain would have done. Actually, for the first time in all of my adult life, I actually feel proud of my President.

I saw the last election as a turning point in the leadership of both parties. I rather liked the idea of the Republican Party under the leadership of John McCain, and I felt that the Democrats could better weather a vacuum in leadership; so I voted for McCain.

And sure enough, now we've got the Tea Party. That's the sort of thing that happens when you try to force a leadership vacuum in the Republican Party. Last time it brought us Newt the Grumpy Dwarf.

Not that I don't like Newt, mind you. It's just that I enjoy the imagery of a grumpy dwarf. It's so Snow White and everything. That movie might well have been the blueprint for Newt's Republican takeover.

Think about it for a minute.

At any rate, that's what it is around these parts. This particular election cycle just makes me feel like I need to take a bath.

Of course, if they had played an animated video, I would have enjoyed voting much more.

I'm a guy, for crying out loud.

Were they handing out cupcakes, you know darned well I'd be down there voting next time.

New Project

2010-10-31T07:00:00.004-06:00

I decided to start a new blog. It's called, "The Malfeasance of St. Louis County."

I have been involved in some legal issues, and the matter has been prolonged by an enforced silence on the matter. No more.

Part of the problem is the misunderstanding of electronic documents. There is a wide and generally held belief that electronic documents are mercurial in nature; however, they are not.

In fact, the 'Delete' command operates as nothing more than an indexing function. The information stored in electronic documents are far above and beyond what ordinary paper documents could hold. You can view each and every edit to an electronic document, in most cases; not so with paper.

I understand that nobody is really interested in my personal travails, and it is my intent to include general information which would be of interest to an ordinary blogger.

Right now, you're at a Google property. This is Blogspot. Some things are particular to Google and Blogger, while others are more general.

Much of the information is readily available, but not widely known.

For example, in privacy cases, liability exists at the time of publishing. With electronic documents (bloggers), a plaintiff must first request that the materials be removed before any damages can be awarded. Recently, an appellate court denied damages to a sheriff's deputy involved in a divorce. His ex posted a lot of personal information on a website, including his home address and telephone number. He sued for privacy violations, and won. The damages portion of the judgment was repealed by the appellate court, because it was shown that he had not made contact to request removal of the offending materials.

Now, I have a hearing on Thursday, November 4th, at 9:30 am. At 11:00 am, the materials to be presented as evidence at that hearing will be posted automatically to The Malfeasance of St. Louis County.

There is significant malfeasance on the part of three parties in this matter (not including the evidence tampering on the part of opposing counsel):

1: There was a woman who wanted to show the St. Louis County Police that they are just as stupid as she believes that they are. They were most eager to oblige.

2: Malfeasance on the part of the investigator. When you have a website that specifically states that it contains inaccurate information, and for the reason that anyone who wants to can edit, alter, or delete information from that site at any time, that is not acceptable for use to convict someone of a crime. In this case, they used a printout from a website to show that I was a resident of Platte County, Missouri, at a time when I was a resident of Milwaukee County, Wisconsin. To make matters worse, I was served with a summons by the Milwaukee County Sheriff's Office from the same co-conspirators around that time.

3: Malfeasance on the part of the judge in the case. By any reckoning, this is a person that needs to be removed from the bench. In a nutshell, they handed that woman an idiot test, and she passed with flying colors.

I've kept my mouth shut (for the most part) until now.

I've held my silence too long.

UPDATE:
Just to say that I have been in contact with the Lt. Colonel who is the commanding officer for the Division of Criminal Investigation for the St. Louis Co. PD. He was very prompt and responsive, and forwarded the matter to the Bureau of Professional Standards; which is to say, the matter is being dealt with through the proper channels.
But it's important to remember that malfeasance on the part of one is not a proper indicator of the efforts of the good men and women that make up that department that are attentive to their duties every day.

Also, I filed a formal complaint with the Office of Chief Disciplinary Counsel against opposing counsel for evidence tampering. I received a letter back stating that this was 'a judicial matter.' And so, that will be dealt with through the proper channels as well.

Grandmother's Song

2010-10-29T06:02:00.006-06:00

If I can find my adapter, I might play this one for you.

The portions in 6/8 aren't labeled as such, but it's pretty much the same now as it was then.

UPDATE:

I found the adapter, and gave it a test run. It recorded fine, playback was ok, but the computer hung up, and I ended up having to unplug it without saving. Progress, nevertheless.
The thing runs about a minute and a half.
I have to figure out which pickup I want to play this through.
My Dean Palomino. Love it.
I ♥ Palomino.

Atomic World, Light & Dark

2010-10-25T00:21:00.013-06:00

Atomic World

First up is Attomica, from São Paulo.

I like these guys because this was very much me around 20 years ago, even with the excess string hanging from the head of the guitar.

From the Czech Republic comes Atomic. No relation.

Light & Dark

Lee Dorrian's new gig after Napalm Death. Pre-Smee stuff from the Soul Sacrifice EP here, featuring Mark Griffiths. From Coventry.

One of the better tunes from Pentagram, a 70's band from Baltimore. Demo recorded live here.

Apollyon Sun, from Zurich, on their '97 industry demo. The vid is WoW; seems to fit, oddly enough.

A nice little ballad from Genghis Tron here. This one is from Asleep on the Forest Floor, performed here live. From Philly.

Other

And of course, one of the greatest videos of All Time from one of the greatest bands of All Time. The classic saga of Techno-Destructo.
These guys are from the Richmond area. Think of that the next time you're driving through Virginia.

Headphones recommended.

The Zippo Deity

2010-09-07T16:36:00.010-06:00

“My God is a super-badass. He can shoot fire out of his fingertips.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God is even more badass than that. He wouldn’t go for that cheap Vegas crap. My God created matches.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God is even more badass than that. My God has wooden matches, and He can make fire even in the rain!”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God makes yours look weak. My God has a Bic, and it always lights on the first strike.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, my God makes yours look stupid and backwards. My God has a Zippo, and he can just refill it even after your god’s silly Bic has run out.”

That’s really cool.

So, maybe if, say, one day, you’re waiting around in Heaven somewhere, hanging out in the smoking section, you can say, “Hey, God! Let me see that Zippo over here a minute.”

Blog Notes

2010-08-20T17:50:00.003-06:00

A few notes on what's going on around here.

I'm in the process of moving some of the music content over to another place where I was invited to contribute. It's a music blog. Demo stuff still goes to this site. There will be more material there over the next couple of months, but getting it posted to the blog right away really isn't priority.

To date I have a post about the Cold Lake album by Celtic Frost, a short bio and analysis of Django Reinhardt, and Fast Eddie Clarke. I will probably do a post with a lot of links once I get more material up.

Anyway, that's what's going on over here.

The Consul at Sunset

2010-07-04T07:09:00.012-06:00

This is a piece which has been particularly influential. I don't care to elaborate at present.

It does have an interesting backstory, mind you. But I don't care to go into all that either. (too early)

Just for your enjoyment, presented as it is.

The artist is Jack Bruce. It's from the Harmony Row album (last song, side two). Pete Brown lyrics. Chris Spedding guitars.

Though the fireflies laugh in the dusk light
It's the Festival of Death
Crowd is all laughter, it's hollow
Sadly...
They may kill death tonight
But they still live beneath the volcano
Won't be so many more days
Isn't much time and
It's gathering darkness, my friend.

Vienna

2010-05-15T02:11:00.015-06:00

European lagers are generally divided into three classes— pale (pilsner, Dortmunder, & helles), amber (Vienna, Märzen, & Oktoberfest), and dark (dunkel & schwartz).

It is common to see the abbreviation “VMO” in brewing literature when referring to the German amber lagers.

The helles, Märzen, Oktoberfest, and dunkel are all associated with the city of Munich, but Vienna plays an integral role in the development of the VMO.

Ray Daniels explains:

From its beginnings as a Roman outpost, Vienna struggled along for many centuries before becoming a city in its own right during the thirteenth century. The first brewery— associated with a hospital— was noted not long after, in 1296. For several centuries after this, beer was the underdog in a running battle with wine. Grapes grow well in the Vienna area, and the landed parties who produced wine demanded protection of their product from the competition posed by beer. It was not until the sixteenth century that brewing was widely licensed to convents, castles, towns, and marketplaces.

By 1732, fourteen breweries operated near Vienna. They produced one or two types of oat beer, three varieties of wheat beer, and five varieties of barley beer.

Gabriel Sedlmayr was a brewer from Munich that toured England in the early 19th century. At that time, the English brewers had developed more technologically advanced methods than were in use on the continent. Sedlmayr is credited with bring the use of the thermometer and hydrometer to German brewers as a result of this trip.

It was the professional relationship between Sedlmayr and Vienna’s Anton Dreher that gave rise to the Vienna lager style.

Dreher came from a brewing family and studied with Sedlmayr in Munich as a young man before taking over the family brewery in Vienna. Early along, Dreher combined the Munich bottom-fermentation yeast with Vienna malts and brewing procedures to create the Vienna style of lager. The Märzen style produced in the same breweries was nothing more than a stronger version of the Vienna brew.

It appears that the Munich Oktoberfest style was an imitation of the Viennese Märzen beer. Interestingly enough, it was Gabriel Sadlmayr’s son who is credited with brewing the first Vienna-style Oktoberfest beer. [This was in 1872-- M.]

Dreher introduced Vienna lager in 1841. By the 1870’s, Vienna beers had won great acclaim. There were three distinctive styles of Vienna lager at this time— Abzug, a low-gravity variety roughly 3/4 the strength of the standard; Lager, which refers to Vienna lager roughly as we know it today; and Märzen, a slightly stronger version of the lager. There is one brewery that also produced a Doppelmärzen, which was stronger still. The primary difference between these styles was the gravity.

The Viennese brewers used a decoction mash, after the German tradition. This is a step-mash, where the temperatures are raised to engage enzyme activity through a succession of temperature ranges. In a decoction mash, the grist is drawn off of the mash, boiled, then returned to the mash. It’s a bit tricky, and there are certain formulae to follow as to raise the temperature of such-and-such volume at such-and-such density by so-many degrees by such-and-such volume of a boil; the boil being the constant (212F).

Wahl & Henius reported in 1908 that the Vienna beers are hopped at a rate of

30 percent less than those for Bohemian beers, about 30 percent more than those for Bavarian beers.

The hops were mainly Czech Saaz and Styrian Golding.

Now, the truly distinctive part of the Vienna lager is in the malt. This is a pale malt that is kilned a bit higher than other pale malts, which gives it a bit of toasty, nutty flavor. A good Vienna lager is a malt-forward type of beer.

A Viennese brewer by the name of Santigo Graf brought the style to Mexico in the 1880’s. It is from the Mexican brewers that the style is most evident today. Negro Modelo is considered the standard of the style, although the Dos Equis amber is a much better beer, IMHO. The Schell Firebrick, from New Ulm, Minnesota, is a step above the Dos Equis.

These are the tasting notes from the GABF:

Beers in this category are reddish brown or copper colored. They are medium in body. The beer is characterized by malty aroma and slight malt sweetness. The malt aroma and flavor should have a notable degree of toasted and/or slightly roasted malt character. Hop bitterness is clean and crisp. Noble-type hop aromas and flavors should be low or mild. Fruity esters, diacetyl, and chill haze should not be perceived.

The BJCP has more detailed notes:

Aroma: Moderately rich German malt aroma (of Vienna and/or Munich malt). A light toasted malt aroma may be present. Similar, though less intense than Oktoberfest. Clean lager character, with no fruity esters or diacetyl. Noble hop aroma may be low to none. Caramel aroma is inappropriate.
Appearance: Light reddish amber to copper color. Bright clarity. Large, off-white, persistent head.
Flavor: Moderately rich German malt aroma (of Vienna and/or Munich malt). A light toasted malt aroma may be present. Similar, though less intense than Oktoberfest. Clean lager character, with no fruity esters or diacetyl. Noble hop aroma may be low to none. Caramel aroma is inappropriate.
Mouthfeel: Medium-light to medium body, with a gentle creaminess. Moderate carbonation. Smooth. Moderately crisp finish. May have a bit of alcohol warming.
Overall Impression: Moderately rich German malt aroma (of Vienna and/or Munich malt). A light toasted malt aroma may be present. Similar, though less intense than Oktoberfest. Clean lager character, with no fruity esters or diacetyl. Noble hop aroma may be low to none. Caramel aroma is inappropriate.
Comments: American versions can be a bit stronger, drier and more bitter, while European versions tend to be sweeter. Many Mexican amber and dark lagers used to be more authentic, but unfortunately are now more like sweet, adjunct-laden American Dark Lagers.

It should be noted that the modern Märzenbiers are derived from the Munich interpretation of the style. The shift occurred at some time between 1955 and 1970.

Now, there is a forum that I frequent which focuses on brewing, and that’s sort of what this is about, really. (Never let it be said that I failed to provide sufficient background information.) There was a fellow there looking for a recipe for a Vienna lager, something along the lines of Brooklyn lager or Short’s Noble Chaos. I happened to have made a Vienna lager that received very good reviews, and so I posted the recipe there.

Now, the fellow that lives upstairs from me is a chef that writes a column on food and beer pairings. We sometimes trade beer and food back and forth. He said that this was my best one yet. He said that it should be sold commercially, but I am content with a small production. (I have other things I do for business.)

This was a step-mash (122, 144, 152, 162) with a kölsch yeast. It came out a bit stronger than I had intended due to the mash efficiency.

The backbone is the Vienna malt, with a bit of two-row for the increased enzyme activity for the mash. Victory is the American version of the Belgian biscuit malt. It is included here to provide a bit more toasty, nut-like complexity. The caramel malt, crystal 120, has a warm, pleasant toastiness to it. So, the malt bill is all about toastiness.

Perle is a German hop that has a bright evergreen flavor. Spalt is a noble hop, the one used in Budweiser, and it has a strong flavor for a noble hop. Mount Hood is also a noble hop, but is much softer than Spalt. Perle for bittering, Spalt for flavor, and Mt. Hood for aroma. That's the hop schedule.

Exactly as George Fix phrased it:

elegance and softness as well as a measure of complexity.

A fine beer, indeed.

Another fellow at the forum saw the recipe there, and decided to try his hand at it. He modified the original a bit, including some muscovado sugar and some malt extract, adding more bittering hops, and used a Trappist yeast. He aged it in an oaken barrel. This appears more like the historical Märzen to me than a Vienna lager, though the Belgian yeasts are known for high ester production (It’s the esters that’s the real difference between an ale and a lager.)

He was so pleased with it that he sent me a couple of bottles to thank me for the recipe. These are my trophies.

This the first time that anyone else has ever used one of my recipes, that I know of. I keep trying to push my extract recipe for a Southern English brown ale (SEBA), but most people that brew tend to like enormous amounts of hops rather than something heavily malty with low hops.

Here are some photos with my crappy cell phone cam:

My own Vienna lager alongside the trophies from an admirer.

I will enjoy this beer while I watch Mr. Deeds Goes to Town this evening.

I do wish you could enjoy one of these beers with me. I hope you have enjoyed the history, and that it made you thirsty for something darkly malty.

(And a big ‘Hello!’ to Lindsay along the Danube. I hope you have time to find something a bit more authentic than my humble brew on your journey.)

Hereafter

2010-05-08T14:43:00.055-06:00

This is a test to see if I've got the process down right to embed the player here (Thanks, Zee!). For the test, I include something very much a rarity, a real treat.

The song is 'Hereafter' by the Dixie Dregs, from the Dregs of the Earth album, which has been out-of-print for many years. I used to listen to this song at least once a day when I was in high school, mostly laying on the floor with the speakers held up close to my head.

This is one of those bands that most people have never heard of, unless you're a musician.

I bought my first copy of Guitar World (Vol. II, No. 1, Eddie Van Halen snake guitar cover) because of the interview with Steve Morse in it. That interview was the first time I ever heard of Eric Johnson.

The Dregs were a project band from the Univ. of Miami in the 70's, when they had one of the premier music programs in the country. They got signed to Arista, and made several albums of instrumental music. The last one they did, Industry Standard, had two songs with vocals. The one, 'Crank It Up,' was a minor hit, their only one.

Dregs of the Earth was the first one they did with their new hotshot keyboardist, T. Lavitz. He does some rather tasty stuff here. I like the phrasing of it. Lavitz played with Jefferson Starship for a couple of years after the Dregs.

Steve Morse, the guitarist and songwriter, went on to play for Kansas and Deep Purple (he's still there). The drummer, Rod Morgenstein, went on to Winger. He's also played in various project bands featuring members of King's X and Dream Theater.

The solos in this one are as follows:

1st verse: Allen Sloan (violin), with
Andy West (bass), played in unison.

2nd verse: T. Lavitz (Fender Rhodes)
Allen Sloan (violin)

Coda: Steve Morse (guitar)

I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do.

Notes on Equity of Judgment

2010-04-30T02:04:00.016-06:00

“Equity is the most fundamental among human virtues. The evaluation of all things must needs depend upon it....
“Observe equity in your judgment, ye men of understanding heart! He that is unjust in his judgment is destitute of the characteristics that distinguish man’s station.”

——Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh

I am reminded of a time not too long ago.

There was an occasion when there was a fellow from some Tea Party protest at some strip mall. The owner of the place was by-and-large unconcerned with the political views expressed, but was mindful of the disposition of his patrons. The Tea Party gathering was allowed to continue, provided they not become too disruptive, and the security kept an eye on them there.

Then one fellow got the idea that he’d like to have a burger, so he went over to a sidewalk café there-- just one lone fellow, no milling about. The problem is that he was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Give me Liberty-- Not Obama.” The security people came over to talk to him about it, and asked if he would turn his t-shirt inside out while he remained at the establishment, so as not to offend the other diners. He refused, and was subsequently arrested.

The big to-do was all about some peaceful citizen exercising his right to assemblage, when all of a sudden some jack-booted Nazi rent-a-cop comes over and waylays the guy.

But from my view, I can see that the owner of this shopping center has rights. The patrons are there as guests. When you get right down to it, each of the businesses there are as well.

But most of the people didn’t see it that way.

I took a lot of heat over that.

Because it wasn’t a Tea Party gathering at all, you see. This was a protest against the war in Iraq. It was a mall in Long Island, and the fellow was Don Zirkel. He was 80 years old and in a wheelchair, so (as the argument goes) he is free to do whatever he wants and any action from the authorities to modify the unabated expression of his freewill is particularly egregious.

The t-shirt had two words on it-- “Dead” and “Enough,” and there were the death tolls for the American soldiers there as well as the Iraqi civilians. There were three large red splotches made to look like blood on this shirt. The thing was intended to be shocking and provocative.

But because this is all about the Iraq War, then anyone that didn’t take exception to this action by the security officers was supposedly all sorts of morally corrupt, as well as mentally incompetent, etc.

Back then, everyone believed that as soon as a Democrat would come into office, someone would walk over to him and hand him a magic wand, which he would wave around a few times, and then all of a sudden all of the servicemen in the Middle East would magically reappear state-side, just fine and dandy. They knew it so much, it didn’t do much good to tell them otherwise. Anyone (like me) that might have the audacity to say, “You know, you’re probably going to be needing a bit of a position on something, other than just being against the Iraq War, in order to govern,” was just laughed off. (This was well before the big health care debate, btw.)

And wouldn’t you know it, now these same people find it particularly amusing to go around referring to the Tea Party activists as “tea baggers.” I just find it sad that so many would take such great pleasure in being so blatantly juvenile (my feelings toward both sides).

It reminds me of the saying that a communist’s greatest fear is that other communists who are his enemies will come into power.

Those people didn’t hate Geo. W. Bush, no matter how much they may say so. They may disagree with his policies, but really, in their hearts, they want to be just like him.

Now, in this particular instance that I refer to, there was some fellow, well-known for being a half-cocked loudmouth, that made some outrageous statement that Armani’s had pulled out of a deal to open a store at that mall because of the treatment of this poor, poor Iraq war protester.

It sounded like a bunch of crap to me. A lie well-received is a lie nevertheless.

So, I called the mall, and spoke to the people in the office there (the leasing office is located elsewhere, and yes, I did speak to them too). No one knew anything about an Armani’s.

So I called an Armani’s out on Long Island. They told me that there were only two Armani’s on all of Long Island, and there weren’t any plans to open another one. I suppose there’s only so many $400 pairs of slacks that can be sold to one population group (that's a sale price from the outlet mall, btw).

So, I call the guy on it. “Look, you’re lying.”

Of course, this makes me the bad guy.

I happened to tell the truth in a place where the truth was unwelcome. I have a way of doing that. It’s a curse that has followed me all of my life.

To be fair, Georgio Armani is very active in relief efforts for refugees. He also has a really big hotel in Dubai. But I don’t think the man got where he is by making business decisions flying off the cuff, or on something as inconsequential as the arrest of some war protester. It takes a lot of money and a lot of planning to open a store of any kind. There’s a lot of research that goes into it. And although I may be incorrect in my assessment, I feel inclined to give Mr. Armani a bit of credit here-- I don’t think the man’s a dumb-ass.

But some people feel inclined to believe that I’m a dumb-ass that they can tell any wild tale to, and I have an obligation to buy into it, or I’m a bad guy.

Sometimes I would rather be the bad guy.

I can live with myself a lot better that way.

And now, I would like to call your attention to that little scrap of scripture at the top of the post; to two phrases in particular. Take a few moments and consider, if you will, what exactly is “man’s station,” and what manner of things might “distinguish” that? And what do you suppose it means to be “destitute of [those] characteristics?”

Extraction

2010-04-22T10:30:00.006-06:00

I just came back from pulling a raccoon out of a dumpster. Still kind of shaken by it.

I don't know how it was that I came to specialize in raccoon extraction, but I'm pretty good at it.

That one was a fighter though. She almost got me.

I had a bit of trouble getting a good handle on her, and she kept snapping at my stick. I got my foot on top of her head; not stepping on her, but touching her, making contact. It was over pretty quick after that.

She wasn't too happy when I dropped her on the ground. They never are.

She took off, but kind of slow. I'm wondering if she was injured in some way.

Not starving, by any means. She went off through a hole in the fence, barely big enough to slip through.

That one was too close though. It took longer than I expected. I must be getting slow as I grow older.

No photos though. I didn't think about that until after.

“Be ye the trustees of God amongst His creatures, and the emblems of His generosity amidst His people.”

The Enchanted Garden of Barganax

2010-04-10T02:28:00.007-06:00

This scene finds the Duke painting in the enchanted garden. It introduces Dr. Vandermast, a member of the Duke's court, a philosopher, sophist, and magician, who is gifted in returning unintelligible reply on any manner of subject (although he does not appear in this passage).

————————§——§————————

That third morning after that coming of the galloping horseman to Mornagay, Duke Barganax was painting in his privy garden in Zayana in the southland: that garden where it is everlasting afternoon. There the low sun, swinging a level course at about that pitch which Antares reaches at his highest southing in an English May-night, filled the soft air with atomies of sublimated gold, wherein all seen things became, where the beams touched them, golden: a golden sheen on the lake’s unruffled waters beyond the parapet, gold burning in the young foliage of the oak-woods that clothed the circling hills; and, in the garden, fruits of red and yellow gold hanging in the gold-spun leafy darkness of the strawberry-trees, a gilding shimmer of it in the stone of the carven bench, a gilding of every tiny blade on the shaven lawn, a glow to deepen all colours and to ripen every sweetness: gold faintly warming the proud pallour of Fiorinda’s brow and cheek, and thrown back in sudden gleams from the jet-black smoothness of her hair.
‘Would you be ageless and deathless for ever, madam, were you given that choice?’ said the Duke, scraping away for the third time the colour with which he had striven to match, for the third time unsuccessfully, the unearthly green of that lady’s eyes.
‘I am this already’ answered she with unconcern....

She had not stirred; yet, to his eye now, all was altered. As some tyrannous and triumphant phrase in a symphony returns, against all expectation, hushed to starved minor harmonies or borne on the magic welling moon-notes of the horn, a shuddering tenderness, a dying flame; such-like, and so moving, was the transfiguration that seemed to have come upon that lady: her beauty grown suddenly to a thing to choke the breath, piteous like a dead child’s toys: the bloom on her cheek more precious than kingdoms, and less perdurable than the bloom on a butterfly’s wing. She was turned side-face towards him; and now, scarce to be perceived, her head moved with the faintest dim recalling of that imperial mockery of soft laughter that he knew so well; but he well saw that it was no motion of laughter now, but the gallant holding back of tears....

‘Come’ said the Duke. ‘What shall it be then? Inspire my invention. Entertain ’em all to a light collation and, by cue taken at the last kissing-cup, let split their weasands, stab ’em all in a moment? Your noble brother amongst them, ’tis to be feared, madam; since him, with a bunch of others, I am to thank for these beggar-my-neighbour sleights and cozenage beyond example. Or shall’t be a grand night-piece of double fratricide? yours and mine, spitted on one spit like a brace of woodcock? We can proceed with the first to-day: for the other, well, I’ll think on’t.’
‘Are you indeed that prince whom reputation told me of,’ said she, ‘that he which did offend you might tremble with only thinking of it? And now, as hares pull dead lions by the beard—’...

As if spell-bound under the troublous sweet hesitation of the choriambics, she listened very still. Very still, and dreamily, and with so soft an intonation that the words seemed but to take voiceless shape on her ambrosial breath, she answered, like an echo:

Once more, Love, the limb-loosener, shaketh me:
Bitter-sweet, the dread Worm ineluctable.

——E.R. Eddison

Moreno Torroba

2010-04-02T19:51:00.025-06:00

This is one of my favorite pieces, and I’m fairly particular about it. This is the second movement, Andante, of the Sonatina in A by Frederico Moreno Torroba. It was first performed in Paris in 1925 by Andres Segovia to a private audience, which included Maurice Ravel; who, it is said, was very impressed by this work. I like the second and third movements best (the Andante and Allegro), although the first movement is definitely worthwhile.

My main complaint with this piece is that most people try to play it too fast. It doesn’t work so well like that. It’s much better played a bit behind the beat, shuffle-style, as one very long cadenza passage. If you try to play it in time, it comes out too dry. It needs to be felt from the heart, expressed tentatively.

The dynamics of the piece are very important, and this is where I have a bit of trouble with it. It’s never quite perfect, and requires a great deal of work.

Here is a video of a fellow from Eastern Michigan University playing it at a recital. It’s one of the best that I’ve heard, and I have heard quite a few. He hurries the first chord a bit (the first D in the D C D), and in a few other places. The dynamics are not observed consistently throughout. But other than that, I would call this an excellent performance; one of the best around.

The performer is Jonathan Edwards, and I’ve never heard of him before. Nevertheless, he shows great promise, and I look forward to hearing more from him in the future.

I hope that you enjoy this as much as I do. It would be a rare thing to see any better performance of this wonderful piece (unless, of course, you happen to come to visit).

UPDATE:
I had to put this here, because the comments section would not accept it.

Here's another piece that I find I'm getting a bit particular about, and for the same reasons. I find that noteworthy because it's so ridiculously simple, it seems like it would be difficult to mess it up. But I see a lot of people butchering it. Terrible.

This one is one of this things that's sort of obligatory to the repertoire. Just about everybody does it.

I have two recordings of this one; one by Parkening (which is incredibly fast), and another by Eduardo Fernandez (who does it much better). The fellow in the video does it better than either one of them. As far as recordings, I prefer the Richard Cobo.

I really don't know as much about Brouwer as I would like. There's only a few of his pieces that I'm familiar with.

I've gotten to where I browse through these things because of all of the commercials on Pandora anymore.

Type in Kind

2010-03-24T03:22:00.014-06:00

The signature song from so many years ago.

This is something like the third set of lyrics for this one. It evolved a bit, but the music and the arrangement stayed pretty much the same.

This is built around an E phrygian hexatonic with a diminished fifth:
E F G A Bb D E;
and down-tuned a full step to D:
D Eb F G Ab C D.

There was a chromatic run in the chorus, and one measure of 2/4 at the end of the chorus before the return of the theme.

I can see the influences of Robin Trower, Randy Rhoads, Eric Johnson, and Celtic Frost in this one, although it didn't sound anything like any of those.

Type in Kind

Type in kind I would know
       out through the open door
Ever endless traces lost and chasing for
And to remember, and then decide
Chosen rest, the type in kind, I say
The type is cast, the mould is worn
Spectral timbre creased and torn to bits
The kind of twisted roads I find
To pace the length of
       the path I take
       and choose as mine
It’s all mine, the type in kind

Type in kind I have chose, appropriation known
Discover hoards that hid until I come upon
Wicked spirals fill my mind
A bleeding death, their type in kind, ya know
The type is distant, but not at rest
Unfolds its secrets within my breast
The kind is sullen, the reasons why
Search out the truth of
       whatever I see
       whatever I decide
I call at my whim
This reason, this mind
This type, this kind
The type in kind, I say
Type in kind

Sundog

2010-03-02T13:41:00.002-06:00

Zimiamvia

2010-02-22T04:14:00.005-06:00

‘Now I’ve angered you,’ said Amaury. ‘And yet, I said but true.’

As a wren twinkles in and out in a hedge-row, the demurest soft shadow of laughter came and went in Lessingham’s swift grey eyes. ‘What, were you reading me good counsel? Forgive me, dear Amaury: I lost the thread on’t. You were talking of my cousin, and the great King, and might-a-beens; but I was fallen a-dreaming, and marked you not.’

——Mistress of Mistresses

Much like the wanderer Lessingham, the prose of E.R. Eddison takes me fallen a-dreaming. With much of his works, I read each paragraph through at least twice; once to enjoy the beauty of the prose, and again to take in the meaning before moving on. Eddison is, by far, my favorite author, but most of his works have been out of print for some time.

I recently acquired the Ballantine edition of the Zimiamvian trilogy (1967 — 1969). I will be sharing short excerpts on occasion as the mood strikes.

A Vision of Zimiamvia

I will have gold and silver for my delight:
      Hangings of red silk, purfled and work’d in gold
With mantichores and what worse shapes of fright
      Terror Antiquus spawn’d in the days of old.

I will have columns of Parian vein’d with gems,
      Their capitals by Pheidias’ self design’d,
By his hand carv’d, for flowers with strong smooth stems,
      Nepenthe, Elysian Amaranth, and their kind.

I will have night: and the taste of a field well fought,
      And a golden bed made wide for luxury;
And there,— since else were all things else prov’d naught,—
      Bestower and hallower of all things: I will have Thee.

—Thee, and hawthorn time. For in that new birth though all
      Change, you I will have unchang’d: even that dress,
So fall’n to your hips as lapping waves should fall:
      You, cloth’d upon with your beauty’s nakedness.

The line of your flank: so lily-pure and warm:
      The globéd wonder of splendid breasts laid bare:
The gleam, like cymbals a-clash, when you lift your arm;
      And the faun leaps out with the sweetness of red-gold hair.

My dear,— my tongue is broken: I cannot see:
      A sudden subtle fire beneath my skin
Runs, and an inward thunder deafens me,
      Drowning mine ears: I tremble. — O unpin

Those pins of anachite diamond, and unbraid
      Those strings of margery-pearls, and so let fall
Your python tresses in their deep cascade
      To be your misty robe imperial. —

The beating of wings, the gallop, the wild spate,
      Die down. A hush resumes all Being, which you
Do with your starry presence consecrate,
      And peace of moon-trod gardens and falling dew.

Two are our bodies: two are our minds, but wed.
      On your dear shoulder, like a child asleep,
I let my shut lids press, while round my head
      Your gracious hands their benediction keep.

Mistress of my delights; and Mistress of Peace:
      O ever changing, never changing, You:
Dear pledge of our true love’s unending lease,
      Since true to you means to mine own self true.—

I will have gold and jewels for my delight:
      Hyacinth, ruby, and smaragd, and curtains work’d in gold
With mantichores and what worse shapes of fright
      Terror Antiquus spawn’d in the days of old.

Earth I will have, and the deep sky’s ornament:
      Lordship, and hardship, and peril by land and sea.—
And still, about cock-shut time, to pay for my banishment,
      Safe in the lowe of the firelight I will have Thee.

——E.R. Eddison

Questions

2010-02-19T05:22:00.009-06:00

Here are a few questions which I have been pondering lately. I encourage you to share your views in such matters.

1). How is it that God can be both just and merciful, yet neither quality is lessened thereby? It would seem as if mercy implies forbearance of justice. Similarly, it appears as if justice would negate mercy. So how could it be that justice and mercy might coincide fully and without limitation, and yet the both are inclined toward the same end?

2). What is the purpose of freedom? How is it that we might be able to tell when we have achieved it to an adequate degree? Were I to look out of my window, what manner of things would I see had an adequate degree of freedom been realized?

I don't have all the answers. I don't even have all the questions. But these two have occupied my mind for some time.

UPDATE:
And before I go, I would like to share this with you. I heard it for the first time last night on Pandora. A sort of parable.

She’s a Tree

When I went outside this morning
And I couldn’t believe my eyes
There was a beautiful tree in my backyard
She was reaching for the skies
And before I could get any closer
She was all that I could see
And I didn’t even seem to notice
That she was looking down on me

She’s a tree — (yeah, she’s a beautiful tree)
But I’m cutting her down — (yeah, cutting her down)
She’s a tree — (yeah, she’s a beautiful tree)
But I’m cutting her down — (yeah, cut her down)

So she spread across my backyard
And tried to cover everything in sight
And I was caught up in her beauty
Before I noticed losing light
So I walked around in bare feet
Until I felt that my grass had died
So I looked for the sun
But there was no fun
Cos I couldn’t see the sky

She’s a tree — (yeah, she’s a beautiful tree)
But I’m cutting her down — (yeah, cutting her down)
She’s a tree — (yeah, she’s a beautiful tree)
But I’m cutting her down — (yeah, cut her down)

Satisfaction is no guarantee
If you’re trying taking over me

So I cut her down this morning
And although it made me sad
Then the sun came out and touched my face
And I remembered what I had

She’s a tree — (yeah, she’s a beautiful tree)
But I’m cutting her down — (yeah, cutting her down)
She’s a tree — (yeah, she’s a beautiful tree)
But I’m cutting her down

——Ty Tabor

No True Diviner

2010-02-16T13:59:00.009-06:00

The end of rational animals is to follow the reason.
---Marcus Aurelius

This is to serve as a bridge from the previous post toward more wide-ranging topics; a welcome relief, I am sure.

As no one has yet won the $2000 challenge after a reasonable time, the contest is now over. The correct answer is, “To the south.” Not that I mean anything by it, mind you; it’s just this chair that I’m sitting in as I type.

But what I would really like to call your attention to is a particular logical fallacy, a form of false equivalence, or equivocation, known as “No true Scotsman.”

It is absolutely amazing how common this one fallacy is. This is often used as a form of manipulation, as well as substituting for principle in staking out policy positions. It is very adaptable, you see.

So, if Obama is our first black president, why doesn’t he show up at news conferences with a slice of watermelon? Obama = black; black = watermelon; Obama = no watermelon; Obama black?

Whatever particular term you prefer— fallacious reasoning, misreasoning, contentious reasoning— it appears to be fairly common at various levels.

Now, I have seen this recently in the form of calling for the execution of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney for war crimes. Why? Calling for an investigation is one thing, or even calling for a fair trial— but to insist, not only on a certain verdict, but on a specific sentence? Why?

I once wrote an article defending James Dobson, even though I have no liking for the man; to the contrary, I revile him. Why? Because I found it necessary to defend Reason itself. (Merely writing that sentence made me feel better about the whole thing.)

As a common form of manipulation, this fallacy is often expressed in the form, “If you really wanted to do X, then Y.” While this can often be sage advice, it is also used as a means to direct the action of an individual to other than the desired end.

I wish to abstain from presumptiveness; and so I will close at this point to apply more thought to the process.

For the Evil One

2010-02-13T18:40:00.008-06:00

I had posted two posts recently, and for a specific purpose. That purpose has been realized, and it is no longer necessary that they should remain. However, I wish to answer to the voice of the Evil One. I do so at this time.

1). As I had written:

Yet there are persons who are not so inclined toward the truth or to truthful statements. Even though I could name four witnesses more reliable and accurate, it matters not in the slightest— not even were I to name a hundred. These are people of a particular character as to be inclined toward the one lie they hear, and to hold it dear to them, clutching it closely, even were they adrift in a vast sea of Truth.

My credibility among those inclined only to falsehood is not a thing which I hold dear. I reserve my concern for those of decency.

2). Again, as I had written:

It’s much the same as these people that have read JB/SWB’s blog, saw her comments on their blogs, maybe corresponded by e-mail for a time, and somehow believe that they know this woman far better than the godmother of her children, who has known her for more than 25 years.

If this is true as you say, then why would this woman choose “a poisonous snake… who was the ugly stepsister” as the godmother for her children?

3). Bill Frist was a medical practitioner. My brother was a psychologist. The one requires the physical examination of the patient; the other does not. His response to this was that he did not offer a diagnosis. A huge difference there, but you demonstrate your incredible ignorance in equating the two.

Yes, my brother did plead guilty to a charge of animal cruelty. He kicked a dog that bit his 3-year old son at the park. Both the dog and its owner were held blameless. But in bringing something like that up, you reveal the blackness of your heart. Do you not see what it is you align yourself with?

4). That bank statement was not downloaded. A link was posted to its original location. This image became the property of Google immediately after it was uploaded, and the IP address where it was uploaded from was logged. I linked to it immediately, because Google will not delete an image that has an active link. It was the original location of that image that I linked to.

5). I find it amazing how persons several hundreds of miles away from me claim to “know” the whereabouts of my penis better than I do; just as you claim to “know” of certain events which never occurred. Very well then. I offer to you the sum of $2000 if you leave a comment here revealing which direction my penis is pointed at this very moment. Tell me the whereabouts of my penis right now. For $2000 say it, or your silence will indicate that you are a fool.

6). You can pretend ignorance, but I understand that this pretense, like all of the others, comes with an ulterior motive. I care nothing for your ulterior motives.

7). I did nothing with “her” website. I never had admin rights to that site.

Of what manner of people is it that see justice as punishment? Again, you reveal the darkness of your own heart.

Is it now that you claim to know the inner recesses of my heart, just as you claim to “know” the whereabouts of my penis from hundreds of miles away? You are a fool. Again, you reveal the darkness of your own heart. You know so very little of love.

8). Actually, I find I like it when people mock my faith. It makes me more dedicated. And so, I thank you.

But tell me, what is it that makes these people so “horrid” as you claim?

9). Do you mean to imply that the conditions of Elderly and Evil cannot coincide? This is a plea feigning weakness from the darkness of your own heart. Do not presume me to be a fool. I know that one too well.

10). I knew you were, and that’s exactly why I posted it.

————————§——§————————

I have nothing more to say at this time.

Instruments

2010-02-03T12:32:00.002-06:00

Here are some photos I took with my crappy cell phone cam.

These are the guitars I happen to have out at the moment.
If you look closely, you will find six guitars, a 12-string roundback, a J-bass, a mandolin, a balalaika, and three amps.
That black one is my favorite. I bought it to load with P-90’s, but I liked the tone so much I got another one so I could keep one with the stock humbuckers.
That shadow you see behind them is this:

This is one of my kites.
The other one I keep around is an owl.
I love owls.

Here's another mandolin. This one I purchased from an inlay artist. He does beautiful work.

It doesn't really come out with the crappy cell phone cam, but the colors are really delicate, and change with light and movement.

If only my arms were twice as long, I might be able to back away from it far enough to get a decent picture.

The colors change from indigo to violet to green to rose and back. A living kaleidescope of wondrous colors.

I hope you have enjoyed the presentation.

Peace.

Complain

2010-01-14T02:36:00.010-06:00

Ozone disappearing in the sky
Blind man asking me why ask why
If I could find my magazine this bug would die
I complain

China boy standing up to a tank
Southern boy living in the house of Yanks
If I can't seem to get my motorbike to crank
I complain

Complain
So much easier
To complain
It's so much easier
Complain
So much easier
Easier...

Small kid begging for a crumb of bread
Next kid bloated lying nearly dead
I wonder what to take for my aching head
I complain

Lots of people crying for a little rain
Whole nation learning how to live with pain
I don't know how I'm gonna clean this little stain
I complain

Black man singing Mississippi blues
Africa starves a little baby drools
I'm trying to figure out all the basketball rules
I complain

Mr. Rush Limbaugh giving me the facts
Treetops falling and the newsman yaks
I'm thinking about Carter, and how I'm gonna be taxed
Yeah!

---King's X
Complain

Obstructed by Obscurity

2009-12-15T11:50:00.009-06:00

I've been looking for a magazine. So far, I've been unable to find it.

I don't want to read it. I just want to verify some information.

The magazine is 20 - 25 years old. Even when it was new, it wasn't in wide circulation.

I want to record with my new guitar. I determined that the first piece I would record would be the second air of Turlough O'Carolan's "Planxty George Brabazon." This is one piece that I happen to play better than anyone else.

The arrangement that I am familiar with is in an alternate tuning; an open G, I believe.

I need to verify that. It makes a lot of difference.

And it's in that magazine.

While searching for the verification of the alternate tuning to the second air of Turlough O'Carolan's "Planxty George Brabazon," I have trouble recalling the tune.

I have a piece by Carlo Calvi running through my head. It won't stop. [Note: The piece linked to here is played a bit fast.]

O'Carolan was a harpist from Ireland in the late 17th century.

Calvi was an Italian guitarist from the early 17th century.

No relation.

Just the tune is somewhat similar.

And so, my quest for a little-used tuning to play an obscure piece by a little-known composer to be found in some old and little-circulated magazine (in excellent condition!) is hampered now by another obscure composer with an even more obscure piece.

Darn the luck!

Maybe I'll just play "Blackbird" (another piece that I play better than anyone else)....

EDIT: Mystery solved! This is actually an open G tuning that's been down-tuned by a major-minor interval: B E B E G# B.
It took a lot to get to that point.
The old down-tuned open G.
I should have known....

Cantos de mi Padre

2009-11-28T22:42:00.009-06:00

My brother wrote this piece. It was previously published in Eclectica. Not blockquoted due to length.

————————§——§————————

“I was born … in Saginaw, Michigan…”

Dad’s fingers shook slightly as he pressed them against the fretboard of his old guitar. I sat rock still in the marbled green chair in his kitchen watching him, absorbing every movement, every sound, every smell around me. To this day the stench of stale cigarettes so thick that it covers your tongue reminds me of that night.

He tilted his head a little to one side, the right corner of his mouth twitching upward toward the blue gleam of his eye like he knew a secret that the whole world was waiting breathlessly to uncover. His voice was rough and cracked in all the wrong spots, years of cigarette smoke singeing his throat and robbing it of any smoothness that had been there in his youth. It was a voice that only a choir director could hate sufficiently. It was beautiful.

I sucked at the hot black coffee in my cup as Dad wound through the song. Almost an hour now he had played for his solitary audience. The rest of the world had ceased to exist, suspended by some magic come to life though Dad’s fingers. His unsavory voice filled my ears and seeped through my consciousness, binding me to him. This night, after fourteen years of waiting, I was truly becoming his son.

He ended the song with a soft flourish of flat pick on rusty strings. The twitching corner of his mouth jumped, pulling the rest of his lips upward until a broad grin split his weathered face. His high forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows woogled. I felt a sly smile spreading over my face as I looked back at him.

“Well,” he reached for his cigarette, fuming in the ashtray, “What do you think, son?”

“I like it.”

He squinted one eye as he sucked hard on the cigarette, his head still tilted to one side. The end of the cigarette glowed brilliantly between his thumb and forefinger, then dulled as it was covered with new ash. He crushed it to nothingness in the ashtray, blowing smoke from his nose as he reached for his coffee cup, picked up a beer instead.

“Yeah, me too.”

Somewhere behind me, back in the living room, I could hear my brother moving around, mumbling something to Louise, Dad’s girlfriend. That didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was the nearness of the man in front of me.

He breathed out heavily, as if he had held the air in his lungs, considering if it was wise to let it go or not. Twice he blinked, drawing the pick over the strings. I looked from his hands to his eyes and back. Somehow I knew what he was going to say, just like six months from that night I would know before Mom said anything that he was dead.

“You sure were looking at that Indian girl pretty hard today,” his throat bobbed, “Pretty little thing, wasn’t she?”

Damn, I thought, I wish he wouldn’t do this. My eyes flicked up to meet his, then fell to my coffee cup, rose to his hands.

“I guess you’re about the age that you should be noticing girls like that. Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about or nothing. She’s a pretty little Indian girl.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled because I knew if I didn’t say something he’d just sit there saying how pretty she was.

He stopped strumming the guitar long enough to rub his face. I could hear the whiskers rustling against the calluses of his hand.

“Well, you probably don’t need me to tell you this, but I don’t know if anyone else is going to be telling it to you or not.”

He was silent for a few seconds. It felt like a whole hour had dragged by.

“When I was your age, we called it ‘making out.’ I’m sure you younger people have something else to call it now. Anyway, it don’t hurt nothing, but don’t do no more than you’re willing to handle.”

I felt my face burning. I shifted slowly in my seat, forced my eyes upwards to meet his. He was struggling with himself, trying to find a way to coalesce fourteen lost years of fathering into one short talk. His fingers roamed aimlessly over the guitar.

“Don’t be afraid to talk to her, son. Don’t be afraid to grab what you want the most in life. But don’t grab it just because you can. You respect the women you keep company with, or you won’t be worth respecting yourself.”

I nodded. I wanted, more than anything, for him to shut up and play the guitar more. I hid my face behind the coffee cup, letting the bitter fluid splash down into my stomach.

As I lowered the cup, our eyes met, locked. Never in my life have I ever seen as much naked humanity as I saw that night. Long years of wondering, hurting, aching were rising in his eyes, an echo of the pains that I had endured. I ached to rush to him, throw my arms around his chest and bury my face against his body. I wanted to feel his arms around me, his rough beard brushing against my cheek, the musky smell of hair oil, cigarettes, beer, and hot metal shavings competing for my attention. I wanted to tell him that all was forgiven; that he was my Dad and always would be. I wanted to tell him that I loved him.

I did nothing, though, but sit there and blink back at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

He looked down at his hands, holding them out in front of him. He sighed as he watched them tremble. Then he reached for another beer and cracked it open. He took a long drink and squinted at me again. He tilted up one corner of his mouth and nodded. Then, slowly, and with simple dignity, Dad played a gentle song of love.

When he was finished, Dad got up from his chair, his guitar held in one hand. He scooted the chair back under the table with his thigh and smiled at me sadly. One of his hands patted me on the top of the head, the rough skin rubbing on my scalp. Then he said, “Good-night,” and left me sitting there.

I don’t know how long I sat there, staring into the bottom of my coffee cup. It must have been quite a while, though, because my brother, Will, came in and stared at me.

“What the Hell’s wrong with you?” he asked softly.

I shrugged, “This coffee tastes like shit.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he laughed, “I never ate shit before.”

“Asshole,” I mumbled, “Hey, Will, does Dad play his guitar much?”

“No, not really.”

I nodded.

“I think Dad really wants you to come stay here, man.”

“Yeah,” I stood and stretched, “I think so, too.”

“You going to?”

I thought about the words of the last song Dad had sung to me—If it brings you happiness…then I wish you both the best…It’s your happiness…that matters…most of all—not knowing it would be the last song he ever sang to anyone. I shook my head at Will and sang the words back softly as I walked down the hall to room we were sharing that week.

---Thurman Hart

The Other Syntax

2009-11-05T05:04:00.000-06:00

Did the universe really begin?
Is the theory of the big bang true?
These are not questions, though they sound like they are.
Is the syntax that requires beginnings, developments
and ends as statements of fact the only syntax that exists?
That’s the real question.
There are other syntaxes.
There is one, for example, that demands that varieties
of intensity be taken as facts.
In that syntax nothing begins and nothing ends;
thus birth is not a clean, clear-cut event,
but a specific type of intensity,
and so is maturation, and so is death.
A man of that syntax, looking over his equations, finds that
he has calculated enough varieties of intensity
to say with authority
that the universe never began
and will never end,
but that it has gone, and is going now, and will go
through endless fluctuations of intensity.
That man could very well conclude that the universe itself
is the chariot of intensity
and that one can board it
to journey through changes without end.
He will conclude all that, and much more,
perhaps without ever realizing
that he is merely confirming
the syntax of his mother tongue.

——Carlos Castaneda
from The Active Side of Infinity

Parkening

2009-11-01T01:36:00.009-06:00

All emphasis is the author's.

“I suggest that you pursue a commitment to personal excellence rather than success, based on your own God-given potential. Success and excellence are often competing ideals. Being successful does not necessarily mean that you will be excellent, and being excellent does not necessarily mean that you will be successful. Success is attaining or achieving cultural goals, which elevates one's importance in the society in which he lives. Excellence is the pursuit of the quality of one's work and effort, whether the culture recognizes it or not. I once asked Segovia how many hours a day he practiced. He responded, "Christopher, I practice 2 1/2 hours in the morning and 2 1/2 hours every afternoon." I thought to myself, "If Segovia needs to practice five hours every day, how much more do I need to practice?"

“Success seeks status, power, prestige, wealth, and privilege. Excellence is internal-- seeking satisfaction in having done your best. Success is external-- how you have done in comparison to others. Excellence is how you have done in relation to your own potential. For me, success seeks to please men, but excellence seeks to please God.

“Success grants its rewards to few, but is the dream of the multitudes. Excellence is available to all, but is accepted by only a few. Success engenders a fantasy and a compulsive groping for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Excellence brings us down to reality with a deep gratitude for the promise of joy when we do our best. Excellence cultivates principles, character, and integrity. Success may be cheap, and you can take shortcuts to get there. You will pay the full price for excellence; and it will never be discounted. Excellence will always cost you everything, but it is the most lasting and rewarding ideal. What drives you-- success or excellence?”

---Christopher Parkening

Pumpkins

2009-10-29T23:18:00.005-06:00

A friend of mine does three or four of these each year.

Syntax

2009-10-10T05:22:00.006-06:00

A man staring at his equations
said that the universe had a beginning.
There had been an explosion, he said.
A bang of bangs, and the universe was born.
And it is expanding, he said.
He had even calculated the length of its life:
ten billion revolutions of the earth around the sun.
The entire globe cheered;
They found his calculations to be science.
None thought that by proposing that the universe began,
the man had merely mirrored the syntax of his mother tongue;
a syntax which demands beginnings, like birth,
and developments, like maturation,
and ends, like death, as statements of facts.
The universe began,
and it is getting old, the man assured us,
and it will die, like all things die,
like he himself died after confirming mathematically
the syntax of his mother tongue.

——Carlos Castaneda
from The Active Side of Infinity

Puppy!!!

2009-08-20T17:40:00.006-06:00

Those of you who already know me know that I am a big animal lover. I still have my beloved Gus who is now age 15, and he is still in fairly good health. He does have some arthritis and spinal curvature, but he still loves life: going outside to sniff things, getting his back scratched, and a good roll on the clean sheets.

Recently, though, our family got a new addition--a puppy! His name is Cash, and he is going to be a small dog. He's about nine months old now, and he has so much energy and resilience, he's a joy to have around.
I got him, like I do many things, from by friend, Joe. Joe always gets himself into things, and then he finds out he doesn't really want to do/have them. Such was the case with Cash. Joe wants a dog, but he wants the dog to take care of itself. He doesn't understand that a dog has to be fed twice a day, have his puppy pad changed daily, have plenty of fresh water, and have plenty of contact time with his owner. Joe does work 7 days in a row, 10 or 12 hours at a time. He has 7 days on and 7 days off. He spends most of his off time sleeping. So, needless to say, Joe isn't such a great dog owner.

Most of the time, Cash stayed in Joe's laundry room, and he didn't get much attention. He was a sad, depressed little guy. I started asking to bring Cash to my house for play days with Gus. Gus was getting lethargic, fat, and depressed, and I thought they could both use the company. So, Cash started spending time with us.

Cash showed up at our house as a timid little fellow, but now he is confident, feisty, and loads of fun. He and Gus have playtime every day, and they both seem to be happier than they were. I usually house sit for Joe when he works, and Cash goes with me. This works out for Joe because he still gets to have a relationship with Cash, too--and he doesn't have to take any responsibility to have it.

I have been in for some real surprises. I haven't had a puppy in 15 years. I had forgotten how much work they can be. Gus is older, so he is calm. He can sit for hours and watch TV or lie by my feet while I sew. His idea of a good time is for me to get a pillow, sit on the couch and click out the recliner, and work in a puzzle book or read. He will sit like that for hours with his head on the pillow while I rub his head and back.

Cash is the opposite. He is a live wire. Gus will sleep late with me. Cash is usually up early, and he wants me up early, too. When I don't oblige him, he makes his feelings known by jumping on my chest and biting my nose.

He loves socks and shoes. Joe wanted him to recognize his scent, so he put some of his dirty socks in Cash's kennel. Now Cash loves all socks. (If you are wondering about his name, I think the girl Joe got him from named him after Johnny Cash). He also LOVE LOVE LOVES shoes. I have lost 2 pairs of sandals so far. I had forgotten all about that puppy chewing stage. He also thinks my hands and feet are fair game. He is little, and he gets his little puppy teeth around a hand or foot bone & doesn't want to let go. He loves toys, but Mom's hand is always better to chew.

There is also the potty training phase. He is pretty well pee house trained, but poop house training seems to be beyond his comprehension for the moment. I think the reason why he is trained for pee is because of Gus. Gus pretty much house trained himself, and even at his advanced age, he will not go in the house. Luckily Cash does know how to use puppy pads, but with poop, he isn't always reliable about it. (If anyone has tips on how to improve this, I would be grateful). We just have to keep working on it.

Overall, having a puppy has been a great joy. I used to worry that if I got a puppy that Gus would be miserable during his sunset years, but he seems to be happy to have someone to hang out with. He no longer has separation anxiety when there are no humans around. He is also protective of Cash. When Cash had to stay in his kennel when no one was home, Gus would lie on the floor beside it and keep him company. They have been great for each other.

I can never ask for more of better love than I have from these two! It's a pleasure to share my life with them.

A New Start

2009-08-16T08:31:00.003-06:00

Hello Everyone,

I just wanted to write a brief letter to re-introduce myself to the blog world.

I have previously blogged as part of a few team blogs, mostly with a blogger named Julian Blue. I blogged as Liz Green. When the integrity of those blogs seemed in question, I stopped blogging at them. I did have a solo blog as Liz for a while, but I got promoted to management at my job and could not keep blogging. Unfortunately, my association and friendship with Julian Blue has ended, so now I am giving it a go on my own. I chose a different name because people have come to expect certain things from Liz Green, and I want this blog to be different.

I always felt like a lot of the posts on my previous blogs evolved from negativity. I want this one to be positive. I do a lot of creative things, so I want this blog to reflect that. Some of you have the most beautiful photos, etc. That is what I am trying to do here. Unfortunately, as a city girl, I don't have a chance to grow a garden or flowers, but I do enjoy them.

Zee, that's how I found your blog--I already knew it was there. I have always loved your beautiful photography and your keen wit.

So, welcome everyone to my new blog, and I hope you'll come back often. I hope to make this a positive place that people like to visit.

Take care and have a great day,
SC

PS--someone commented on the template. I got it at Pyzam.com. They have hundreds of great templates and will give you the html code to put in the edit field on blogger. It's pretty easy.

Healthcare Haiku

2009-08-15T00:38:00.002-06:00

Capsules, tablets, pills

Magic potions to cure my ills

Take two and be healed

If only it were this easy to find a prescription for the healthcare system!