Recessing Time

OK, survived the expedition to Nawth Alibam’s Shining City on the Hill. Actually, the traffic was quite clement and few Kamikaze commuters, and all of the latter had Madison County motorcar tags. So not a bad expedition. And the trip to gym this morning was fair. Only a couple of weight bouncers ad they the well behaved ones. And the podcast, an episode of “The Linux Action Show” was diverting if not informative or entertaining. Too many incompetent commercials taking time and thought away from actual useful information.

After the debacle of Two day morning trying to see the eclipse and only getting somewhat soaked I was somewhat ameliorated to see fair photography.[Link]

I don’t know what it is but somehow this photography just isn’t up to the usual excitement level.

Maybe now I can get back to doing stuff instead of playing Red Queen games. Ha! Bad pun!

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Bog Rot

A dark and stormy night. Well, not that stormy. But precipitous. I arose about 0230 to observe the eclipse and all I could see was overcast and the refraction of street light in the droplets on my glasses. So I returned to bed and almost failed to arise. Gym was blissfully sparse, the present weight bouncers were civil, and the podcast episodes, especially the SCIENCE one, were up to expectations: SCIENCE was deep and exacting; NPR was boisterous and slippery; and the Guardian was romantic.

But in and around that I got to spend some attention span on morning – early morning – television and the rather higher density of advertisements. Or am I just jaded later and don’t notice the nasty things.

Anyway, I have been reading several articles lately about how modern life, i.e., the internet, is causing us to become more stupid as a society. I have been ready to credit this somewhat since it is now almost impossible to have intelligent discourse with a GEN Y old enough to have a “smart” cellular telephone. They are ignorant, defining smart in terms of what they can find with their phone, quite ignoring the fundamental untrustability of the the internet.

It may be argued that this is not surprising. With the rise of social networks, bogs have become boggier, if such a plague is possible, and even geeks have become less avid collectors. I have even been accused of paranoia for not accepting as canonical that the internet is eternal and eternally available. Living in the hinterland reassures me daily that neither is accurate.

But having observed early morning commercials with even more egregious prevarication and inaccuracy than later commercials, it occurred that this is less a matter of fooling somnolent individuals than preying on the ignorance of the GEN Ys. I intend to do an informal survey but my testing hypothesis is that they are orthogonal to these flaws and errors. And there is likely nothing we can do but resolve ourselves for the collapse.

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One Day Start

Back to week in. Good session at gym. I missed the rain, which occurred after I arrived and ceased – temporarily – before I exited. There were not too many weight bounders although a couple of rather bullyishness and the podcast episode, one of the CBC’s “Best   of Ideas” dealing with the battle of York, was adequate if a bit thin. The context, as is usual with this podcast, is more than a bit sob sister and shy of historical depth and breadth. More was made of the eccentricities than the dynamics. But it was a diverting almost-hour away from the tedium of exercise.

I am still not back up to speed and have not had time to acquaint myself with external events, which based on the viewing with FD SCP of the weekend news programs, are somewhere between nonexistent and banal. The similarity to the period preceding the War to Make the World Safe for Democracy continues. As does the grrr brrr that has been expected about the climate change exterminating humanity. But the denialists still persist in Amerikan governance. So if we are doomed, why blather?

The weather beavers are mongering a last (??????) cold snap and freeze this week. Amazing how humans can ignore science and bend observation to their own purposes.

Film at Eleven.

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Ice Cream Progress

Closer. I think. The biggest problem right now is getting JAVA to work, which I am only working on so that Ubernote will work……. And enabler not a desirable. Necessity. At least in terms of modal work procedures.

Anyway, the constitutional was enjoyable until my back started complaining, which is modal – also! – for this time of year, so it will get less nasty in a few weeks.

Not much to comment on because I am still trying to get basic functionality. And thence devote some attention span to the exterior universe.

Film at 11.

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Bonus Army?

It may be recalled that Douglas MacArthur got exiled to the Philippines which led to all that mumblage about “returning”, which led to the thread on this blot. Anyway, what is less known is that MacArthur got exiled to the Philippines because of his obedient suppression of the “bonus army” in the early days of the “Great Depression”. Did good, at least from the standpoint of the politicians in office but micturated the populace and became one of the occasional top generals who becomes a scape goat. So much for politician integrity.

Anyway, I am back, or at least I once more have a primary deskbox, a Dell Precision T5500 that decided it didn’t like my last changes to get it up to my needs. So I spent much of yesterday dealing with all manner of digital ankle biting. Not yet settled in but at least we have landed.

And we did have a good constitutional in the park this morning. No jocks, no felines, no nasty weather, just a mediocre podcast episode and the protests of an ORF corpus. The latter are mostly from FD SCP telling me I have to clean up some of my gear piles and dispose of the storage system. That latter bothers a bit since FD SCP has what seems a chromosomal infatuation with storage systems. But I did the intelligent, rational, pain avoiding thing and complied and should be continuing with such for a few more days.

So coupled with softening and fulfilling the implementation of this “new” deskbox, I will be working my way back into the blog as I can give some attention to things other than HW and SW foibles.

I Have Returned! And without the Yankee Navy!

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Sad Crunch

I rather hate to step on pine cones, those reproductive macrogametes of the ubquitous Southron pine tree. The reason for this is two=fold, a lose-lose situation.

Pine cones fall in a collapsed state and once on ground and under the proper meteorological conditions open up and free the seeds within. In the latter state they are at once delicate and attractive rather like some ornamental thing blown by a master glassblower. And once opened up, they dry and become quite brittle.
And in Nawth Alibam, they are as close to ubiquitous as superstitious (and obnoxious) christianists. So just walking from one’s house to the motorcar or the mailbox is a bit of a minefield dance to avoid the things. And if one is distracted by actual thought, admittedly a rare commodity here in the old Confederacy, especially among members of the Alibam Council of Thieves, it is a simple search calculation that one will step on a pine cone (or several) as one walks from point A to point B.
If you step on a pine cone, and it has been previously trodden and hence, crushed, and one is an ORF or even just clumsy, then they are just large enough – usually – to provide a substantial probability of relieving one of one’s balance. So as the children’s rhyme goes, “All fall down.”
If you step on a pine cone, and it is untrodden, then the crushing emits a hideous noise of breakage and wonton destruction. In some ways it is worse than losing one’s balance because that noise seems to exemplify the human practice of abusing Nature and destroying the environment. Falling down is almost preferable other than the significant probability of crushing other cones in the process. And, of course, the difficulty of arising. And abating the impact damages. 
I am told that there is a firm in Jawgah that collects uncrushed cones and anoints them with wax to make a thing for easily starting fires in chimneys. I also remember that while a bairn in loer schule painting cones and anointing them with painted stickerburrs to make solstice tree  models. I am unsure of the goodness of either of these activities, neither of which seems to be permitted to long survive by humans. 
(I am getting closer to having my primary deskbox replaced and then – hopefully – will be able to have spell check on blots.)