Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Homeward Bound

Paul Simon is retiring from touring. We drove up to Greensboro, N.C. and saw him in concert. We caught one of the last U.S. venues. Here's one of the songs he performed in the encore.

It is the music we used to listen to when we were dating. Her old vinyl albums and a little record player. Back when all the future was in front of us and I hadn't even decided to go to Parris Island yet.

“Music is a language that doesn’t speak in particular words. It speaks in emotions, and if it’s in the bones, it’s in the bones.” ― Keith Richards

OK, this is a cheap shot

But it's a funny cheap shot.

When Hollywood made films about evil crony capitalists

The Queen Of The World and I watched a really interesting film the last movie night.

First, it was a good flick, with a good script, good acting, interesting characters, and a compelling story.  We give it two thumbs up, and the QoTW thinks it for for a royal command performance.  She remembered the film and picked it for movie night.*

But what I thought was particularly interesting was the choice of villain - a US Senator in the pocket of Tucker's competitors.  The Senator used the FBI and the IRS to go after Tucker's company and shut it down (this story is a little timely, amirite?).

You see, Tucker had designed a revolutionary car, one with enhanced safety features, fuel injection, a padded dash, and a third headlight that would pivot as the car went around corners to light up the road ahead.

And this film wasn't just made in Hollywood - it was produced by George Lucas and directed by Francis Ford Coppola.

Remember, the bad guys are the Senator and the corporations donating to his re-election campaign.  It is best described as a polemic railing against the power of the government when it is directed by big business to crush small, innovative competitors.

But the car was sweet:

You can see the third headlight in the picture.  They only built 51, but 48 are still running.  The film asked the Tucker Automobile Club of America for volunteers, and 21 of those 48 cars appear in the film.  Pretty cool.  Martin Landau was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar and Joe Jackson (yes, that Joe Jackson) was nominated for a Grammy for his composition.

Recommended, especially if you have kids.  This is entirely family friendly, and appropriately subversive.

* She's clearly not just a pretty face, but smart as a whip.  And delightfully subversive, too.  Unexpectedly so for a Queen.

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

About sums it up

How long would it take for the police to confiscate every gun in America

It's a trick question, of course - a Trillion dollar "War on Drugs" has led to illegal narcotics for sale on every street corner and an epidemic of overdose deaths.  But let's do a thought experiment here.  The left loves their fantasies of rounding up all the guns, so just how long would that take?

A few months back I ran the numbers and the answer is 3 years.  And that was with all sorts of assumptions about how gun owners would just chill out the whole time.  Whatevez, bro.

Eric Raymond comments on a new article that made the same calculation, and came up with a pretty similar number to what I derived (hey, the numbers are the numbers).  But he did some calculation on the expected rate of violent resistance.  The numbers are pretty stark:
There’s a different way to slice these numbers. Applying the 3:1 force ratio military planners like to assume, this means the number of violently resistant gun owners – people willing to shoot a doorknocker rather than watch their country sink into tyranny – needs to be about 249000.
Is this a plausible number?
This is an interesting approach to the problem - take current military doctrine and calculate backwards to see if you have a plausible input.
The NRA has about 5.2 million members. That’s about 1 in 20 NRA members.
According to the General Social Survey in 2013, about 1 in 4 Americans owned guns. That’s 79 million gun owners, and probably an undercount because gun owners are chronically suspicious of the intention behind such questions. But we’ll go with it as an assumption that’s best-case for the doorknockers.
That means that in order to stop attempted gun confiscations dead on a purely force-on-force level, only one in 317 American gun owners needs to remember that our first American Revolution began as spontaneous popular resistance to a gun-confiscation order.
That's 0.3% of American gun owners.  That's ten times less than the Threepers talk about.

The comments are pretty interesting, with a bunch of Europeans telling people that this is no big deal (Whatevez, bro), and getting hammered pretty hard for it.

Monday, June 18, 2018

Quote of the Day: Vulgarity edition

Lone Star Parson cuts to the heart of the matter about why the elites despise Donald Trump: he's vulgar:
President Trump, vulgar?!? You mean he puts ketchup on his steak and builds GOLDEN TOWERS with his name on them?!? How very vulgar, can't vote for him; so much better to have one of our inside-the-beltway, political class elites run the country.

You know, the same crew who've been country club asset-stripping the country for a couple of decades.
There's more, and it's just as insightful.  RTWT.

Damn. Now that's a vicious dog

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Gustav Holst - The Planets: Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age

The Romans considered Saturn to be the father of the Gods, and their temple to him on the forum was (and remains) impressive.  The temple is gone except for the columned portico, shown in the left of the picture here.

Saturn was a big deal to them, so much so that the state treasury was housed there.  Saturn also had a somewhat associated with time, and the year end festival of saturnalia was a time for revelry and celebration.  This may be a bit odd for the father of the Gods, but today is Father's Day, so what the heck.

Gustav Holst included a movement for Saturn in his indispensable "The Planets" - unquestionably his most famous composition.  It was ironic; according to his daughter he seems to have hated conducting it, but couldn't really avoid doing so.

But the music is great, so happy Father's Day!

This is an interesting listener's guide to Saturn:

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Associated Press: the Democrat's winning strategy

It seems like they're not tired of all the winning they've been through lately:
It’s not one size fits all, with every candidate checking every box wanted by the activists driving the opposition to President Donald Trump and the GOP Congress, and Democratic voters typically aren’t tapping the most liberal choices in targeted districts. But, taken together, the crop of nominees is trending more liberal than many of the “Blue Dog” Democrats swept away in Republicans’ 2010 midterm romp. 
That means voters now represented by a Republican will be asked to consider some or all of the mainstream Democratic priorities that may have been considered “too liberal” in the past: more government involvement in health insurance, tighter gun laws, a path to citizenship for people in the country illegally, reversing parts of the GOP tax law, support for LGBTQ rights.
Ignore that Trump is an effect, not a cause.  Keep focusing on him, Democrats.  It's not eight years of over the top leftie policies, nope, no way, nada, no no no.

Double down of what got Trump elected - this time it will be totally more effective.  Do it again, only harder this time.

Tagged with the post tag "shadenfreude" because, well, you know.

Hat tip: The Queen Of The World, who is not tired of all the winning either.

Friday, June 15, 2018

And I Return

It's hard to completely disconnect anymore. It has to be a conscious choice. For a week, I used my phone one a day to check in with home and nothing else, then I turned it off and put it away. No email, no text, no news. The world didn't miss me, it seems no worse, or better, than when I left.

But I am better.

Sore and tired perhaps, but better.

Damned small cars

Should have brought a friend's car with you to hold up the other end.

Thoughts on the FBI Inspector General's report

You don't become an FBI Agent if you're stupid.  You are trying to catch criminals, so you have to know how to gather evidence that will be enough to convict.  You know how to turn over rocks to see what scurries away.

And so it's sort of mind blowing to see the sorts of text message discussions that are detailed in the IG report.  Go easy on the Hillary investigation because she's going to be President, that sort of thing.  FBI Agents know that text messages can be used as evidence - they've gathered evidence this way themselves.  So why were they so seemingly careless about doing it themselves?

The only answer that makes sense is that they didn't think that any of this would come to light.  They didn't think that anyone would turn over their rock.

The next obvious question, of course, is which other Agencies have this going on?  Are there, say, texts from EPA employees about "hiding the decline"?  Are there texts from IRS Agents about the Tea Party?

I wrote a long time ago (too lazy to find it in the 12,000 posts here) that Democrats should be invested in good governance because they are the party of big government.  The FBI IG report is a disaster for the Democratic Party because what's in the 500 pages of the report will dribble out, chinese water torture like, over weeks and months leading up to the election.  What's there is dirty, although perhaps not criminal.  That dirt will stick to the brand of governance in general, and the party of big government in particular.

It will be made worse by the inclination of the Democratic politicians to down play this as not important.  People want their government to be honest, and hearing the Usual Suspects saying that this isn't dishonest will make them look dirty.

Thursday, June 14, 2018

An armed robber tried to carjack two cars in Florida

Both drivers pulled out their guns and stopped him:
Police say a man who tried to carjack two people was thwarted after the victims both pulled out guns to protect themselves.
According to Fox 30, Jacksonville police officers arrested 36-year-old Christopher Raymond Hill, charging him with strong-arm robbery, carjacking with firearm or deadly weapon, aggravated battery with a deadly weapon and trespassing.
Don't mess with Florida.

Top shelf snark



I notice that Google has no doodle for Flag Day.  No surprise.

A Father's Life - A Brigid Guest Post

One thing I made sure was working properly on my last visit out was Dad's chair that lifts him up to the standing position, then, he can lean into it and gently have it sit him back down (and I have to say the DeBeers Diamond  "three months salary" marketing staff have nothing on the folks that sell furniture for older folks).

He loves it, one more thing to help him stay in his home. He recovered from his stroke a few years back better than anyone thought, but he now has a hard time standing and sitting without a little help.  Every morning, he gets up and gets settled in it and reads the daily message from "Our Daily Bread" and then the Bible.  That's something he's done every day since retirement after his morning work out (Dad was a Golden Glove Boxer and still has a very strict exercise regiment that included swimming and Nautilus at the Y with my Step Mom well into their 80's).  Then it's time to get dressed and get about enjoying the day. At 98, he's had some setbacks, and been hospitalized a couple times for infections, but he seems to bounce back pretty well.

But we had one scare, he woke in the middle of the night after dreaming of a home break-in (the house was secure) and called 911.  He then couldn't get out of bed due to a sudden dizzy spell and police broke the door down. They found him having a medical issue and got him an ambulance to the hospital. Bless them for their response and handling of him, as it was really scary for him.  He now has 24-hour care, still refusing to live with family who'd love to have him.

My favorite photo of Dad, taken when he was 92.

Actually, I checked the chair out when he was sleeping in one day, it's quite comfortable and seems to be built better than some of theexpensive yuppie furniture that I used to own.

But dang, I was hoping for an auto-launch feature that would get me airborne. 

Initiate Launch Sequence!  (that's it??)

The family room, where the chair is housed, has barely changed since I was in sixth grade.  My parents built it onto the house over what was most of our huge cement patio.  We took a vote as a family one year when I was in grade school. Vacation to Hawaii with the kids (the parents had already gone on their 25th anniversary alone) or add on a family room?  The kids decided it.  Family room!  We can play!  We can make noise.  We can spill stuff!  We can take the TV set completely apart with tools while they're at the grocery store (oh, dang, busted)

It has the previous living room carpeting down over the original harvest gold linoleum now and the drapes have been updated.  But much is unchanged. The 1970's fixtures for the fluorescent lights that Dad crafted by hand. Still there. That Mexican hat on the Wall?  A VERY embarrassing River dance gone South episode from some tap recital of mine.  The barre built into the wall where I did my ballet warm-ups was removed and replaced with paneling.  It was there under the kitchen window that Mom once took out with a golf ball from the backyard when that was the back window to the house. Fore! (hey, I didn't know Mom knew that other word!)

On the walls are funny tin signs and Montana art.  On another wall are numerous awards and mementos from the community and  Uncle Sam, every single member of our family - Mom, Dad, brothers, sister, serving in Defense, Local or Federal Law Enforcement or the Armed Forces, with the Air Force and Navy battling it out for the best space. And the picture of Jesus, which has witnessed slumber parties, ping pong games (we'd set the table up inside in the winter) Loony Tunes, and probably cursing during that 1983 Minnesota-Nebraska college game.

The couch is new, but the quilt is one my Mom crocheted in the 70's.  There is another one, but it sits in my linen closet at the Range, where I can occasionally hold it, smell the scent of Chanel No. 5 that only exists in my memory.  It's where I can remember her hands working away on it while we kids watched westerns on TV and tried to outshoot Marshall Dillon with our little cap guns under the watchful eye of our Lord.
We've made just a few changes in the house.  The main bathroom, tub and shower were outfitted with handles and bars and a shower chair for ease of bathing. The waterbed was replaced with a quality regular mattress that makes it easier for him to get out of bed, but with a heated mattress pad so it's warm through the night.

The small bath by the family room, though, was in dire need of help.  It was always the "utility" bathroom, old faded paint, bare window, no storage at all, and small and hard to get around in as there was nothing for him to hold onto if his balance or strength waned.  But it's the one he uses the most.

Before he died, Big Bro took care of the construction and I took care of the  paint and the decorating.
Still, with a full-time home health aide I arrange and lawn service that comes weekly I am happy he can stay in his home. He originally said he wanted to move in with me when my Step Mom was diagnosed with cancer and I bought an old money pit of a big house on some property with a view of a small lake, a single story, no steps, "mother in law set up" outside of town, the original "Range." I hoped he'd be happy there. But she went into remission, with great thanksgiving, but was then diagnosed with Alzhemers.

He cared for her in his home through that, until her death, years more than we expected, but not easy years for him.  But as she was his cross, she was also his salvation and he refused to put her in a nursing home, even when she acted out in anger against her children, not recognizing her own life, but somehow, always recognizing him.

But after she was gone, he changed his mind. His Mom was from Indy, and he enjoyed it there, but he didn't want to leave where he's lived all these years.  He wanted to stay where his memories are, good or bad, in his own church, in that old house.  I  understood and sold the place I had bought, at a loss, but one I gladly bore.

This is the home in which his memories reside, in every furnishing that's 30, 40, 60 years old.  There have been other houses, for summer vacations and the old family home in Montana, but this modest little place was always the center of the family.  Outside, is the bed of my Mom's rose garden, replanted with other flowers now, yet still containing for him, those pink and red and coral buds and blossoms, long after they've fallen to dust, no more dead to him than the hands that tended them, the drops of blood they sometimes drew.
In that family room, he sits in his recliner and watches his favorite sports, while around him are the artifacts of loves never lost,  triumphs and defeats, as well as the living laughter of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Not one of them are related to him by blood, but by the strongest bond - family.

My room at home is virtually unchanged and that was not by my request, but his will. Photos of family and family and extended family all around.  The rainbow I painted on my walls in junior high. Dad said I could, but I had to use leftover paint which is why my rainbow is every shade of totally tacky 1970's paint we had.  (yes, we had rooms painted those colors!)
There is no view. There used to be a view of beautiful mountains, but they are hidden from where we sit by tall, big box marts. He refused to sell when they literally bought up several blocks, RE-zoned residential and commercial, so we look out the windows to the vast walls of a commercial business, their parking lot lights illuminating the place like Attica Prison during a break. Curtains keep the light out at night, sort of.  Dad realizes the value of the home just went to zip, but he doesn't care. It's his home,  it's our home.  It's where we lived, and it's where he will pass, hopefully and quietly in his favorite chair, his Bible open and a can of cold beer waiting for when the game is called.

He knows his days are short, we all do. But he's very happy, lousy view and all. The pastor comes and gives him communion regularly.  His neighbor's have him over for meals and their children come and play board and card games with him.   I fly out as often as I can, becoming an expert on the cheap air fares (how many stops?)  My step brother and his wife drive three hours to take him to lunch. My cousin Liz drives up from California several times a year (her partner's family live an hour from Dad).  Liz and I oversee his bills and such, removing that responsibility after he sent thousands to shyters that prey on the elderly.

But he's happy. He has friends, good ones, but new ones, as all of his original group has passed on. He still works out each day, including an exercise bike and he eats very well with a hot meal daily from the sweet ladies that are his home health aides and the snacks and small meals I leave for him in little freezer containers between visits.
Around the house are small sayings, quotes that mean things to him, verses from the Bible.  "This is the Day the Lord hath Made, Let us Rejoice and Be Glad in It" is one that always makes me think of him. Each day is a gift from the Lord, he says, and I can't disagree.

I can't say what the future will bring, but one thing my brother and I both agreed on before he left us. Dad has outlived two beloved wives and two children (he and Mom lost a baby when they were first married) and I'm going to fight to make sure he does not experience any more loss of what he holds dear.

- Brigid