All Hallows Wisdom


I have found that the best T.OR.T “treat” is a can past its use-by date. It’s heavy and the parents won’t let the bairns eat them so all you do is incentivize them not to bother with your house. 

Drone Murmur

Much as I consider them a nuisance, drones have been in the media lately. So I suppose some mumbling is in order.

It seems that shooting drones down is legal, at least in Kentucky. [Link] That fellow who was upset by a bitty drone buzzing his property and took a scatter gun to it has been cleared of criminal charges. Seems that one can indeed blast away – legally – at drones that trespass one’s property. Obviously a fine legal point here beyond the ken of STEM nerds, but this, after all, Kentucky where public officials have infinite freedom to interpret their work duties as they will, ignoring those that they don;t like under any farcical premise or precept. 

Evidently the owner of the foul aircraft is litigating to recover damages to his property in Yankee government court. Be interesting to see how that proceeds. Does he have an expectation of not being bashed for trespassing? Seems simple but this is, after all, the legal instrumentality and that is beyond any form of logic or sense.

Meanwhile, [Link] the YG is proceeding in its plan to require drone registration. What makes this newsworthy is folks like MalWart and Amazing are chiming in. Evidently they don’t want to get their business ruined by people exercising their legal rights against trespass.

I’m waiting for someone to shoot one down with a black market Stinger. Not cool. A laser jammer makes a lot more sense.


Saturn’s day. Also All Hallows Eve. Happily the weather is forecast to be abysmal so FD SCP and I can happily bunker down and not have to worry about the moral implications of dispersing body rot to immature humans.

Higher air temperatures than yesterday. Almost enjoyable in park. Since weather has turned I have returned to listening to podcast episodes on weekend to cut the discomfort. Today’s was an episode of Linux Luddites about a trial of Open SUSE. Not very positive so far.

I can recall purchasing an HP itty bitty lap box with Open SUSE installed. Recall I thought it horrible. Complained about it on a chat site and got bashed by a couple of corporate IT types about how SUSE was wonderful and I was full of mind stercus. Took me a few days to get over the bullying and by that time a Debian variant had been tweaked for the itty bitty and I blew Open SUSE away without a qualm about disintegrating my warranty. That act has since proven itself one of the better I have made in the computer world. 

But I don;t want to talk about Linux distros that are Winders wannabes. And their fan boys. I want to talk about what happens when you say “(Name of OS) sucks” on a discussion site. 

  • Q: Windows sucks. A: Yeah. But you can pay big bucks for this third party SW and it will suck less.
  • Q: iOS sucks.  A: Yeah, but that’s all there is so be happy.
  • Q: (Linux Distro) sucks  .  A: Yeah, so install a different one. The journey’s the thing, not the destination.
  • Q: Android sucks.  A: What’s Android?

I still have that itty bitty lap box and use it occasionally when I don’t mind nose grease on the screen.

Why Not 1

I don’t have a “Bucket List.”

And NO, it isn’t because I don’t plan to die. Rather, it’s because I don’t find a Bucket List a very attractive idea.

Simply put, as I understand it, a Bucket List is a list of specific activities I want to perform or places I want to visit or other enumerable/elistable(?) things prior to discorporation.

I don’t have one.

First, I see no reason to be bound by what other people do or what they think I should do. Except constabulary and such. So I don’t plagariaze things I want to do. If I can’t think it up by myself it’s derivative and meaningless.

Second, a Bucket List is a admission of incompetence until it is completed.

And third, once you have completed it you are ready to discorporate.

Note that the second and third aspects operate on opposite sides of the list to totally compromise the idea.

My last, and most important reason is that the most important (obviously, to me) things I have done in my life haven’t been planned. They sometimes result from planned things – unanticipated consequences – mostly research projects but many of them are purely accidental and stochastic. It works. For me at least.

So why waste good paper and ink?

And handicap my life?


Outreach Failure

Off to park for constitutional. Air temperature lower ’40’s degF, so on the lower edge of cardiologist’s permitted range of exercise temperatures. 

This consideration gave me association to reflect on Outreach. I have to admit that I am not a fan of Outreach for its own sake. Gratuitous Outreach is, IMHO, almost always going to fail. Mostly because the most probable targeted individual will be bog and bogs do not willingly nor happily learn. So you will be better off talking to a rock or tree than to a bog. 

They don’t hit back. Bogs have a tendency to violence for the most inconsequential reasons. Look how many participate in meaningless public demonstrations designed to hurt someone else. Nothing constructive is expected or will happen but something destructive always does. So outreaching to bogs is almost assured to cause one pain for no reason. As my great-uncle George said, “don’t poke sleeping bears.”

They aren’t going to be your friend and you may get eaten.

Of course, if your aim is to get eaten that’s another wrinkle.

But sometimes Outreach is necessary or unavoidable. I got to see one of those occasions this week when the cutter who did FD SCP’s surgery was compelled to outreach to me. Yes, compelled and “to me.” The hosting hospital made him do it and I was the family member/responsible adult (sniggers and baldfaced laughter, obviously) present. And he failed miserably. I came away convinced the fellow was an arrogant putz, maybe ferd, and an incompetent poseur. 

What did he do wrong? Several things. First, and most serious, he didn’t understand the need for trust in Outreach. Second, Outreach fails unless the person touched learns something. Cutter – I’ll call him that since that is essentially what his name is – failed on both of these accounts. He didn’t impart any trust to me and all I learned was that FD SCP was out of surgery and alive. 

I already knew what the surgery was for and what the procedure would be and its instrumentality. After all, FD SCP and I have been down this road a half-dozen times already and I had done my research of preparation.

But since Cutter gave me the Speaking-To-Slime-Mold level of Outreach, he went under. He failed in his chance to embody trust in me by getting me to learn something. And he was the one damaged.

No wonder he doesn’t like to do Outreach. He got damaged. All because he wasn’t professional enough to learn how.

Those who refuse to learn run the escalating risk of dooming themselves to ignorant discorporation.

So if you have to do Outreach, make sure you aim for trust and do it by seeking learning. Try to force an engagement with the target. Find a way to make them ask questions. If you can’t do that then learn to live with your incompetence.

Stupidity in Alabama

Yes, I know that is a hideously redundant title. Alabama is pretty much a synonym for stupidity. Even in Nawth Alibam’s Shining City on the Hill. Where there are more STEMs than in the rest of the state combined.

Last evening I saw a serial interview with some objective ( blatant prevarication that) beef people, like the head of the cattleman’s association and a perfesser from Alabama Pollytechnic Institut. All, including the news readers, totally misrepresenting the news.

The World Health Organization (with the horrible acronym WHO) has classified PROCESSED meat as carcinogenic.[Link] They state that if you eat one wiener a day you increase your lifetime probability of cancer by 0.18.

From 0.05 to 0.06.

They have also classified (essentially) all meat as potentially carcinogenic. That word is STEM talk for causes cancer. Potentially means maybe.

I know that last paragraph was down talking but then I live in Alibam and a lot of people here need the down talking. I apologize to my colleagues who live in Alibam who definitely DO NOT need the down talking.

The good news is that none of the folks interviewed on the electromagnetic audio-visual receiver actually denied the action. After all it’s a classification and not a statement, per se. But they did say they thought Alibamians had good sense and would keep eating meat in great quantity. And yes, that last statement is indeed contradictory but a lot of folks in Alibam won’t get that contradiction.

I have to admit that I don’t eat wieners very often. Only when FD SCP wants baked beans with weiners. And then I buy the organic ones with low metal content and no preservatives. Minimum processing. Maybe twice a year.

But I do like salami. Comes of going to graduate schule. I eat it maybe four times a year.

But I don’t expect others to do as I do. That’s their responsibility.

Besides you gonna die anyway. So not eating meat isn’t gonna keep you alive.

But if you are going to eat a lot of processed meats, do kill yourself off before you reproduce.

Disaster Intendant

Two days in a row to Nawth Alibam’s Shining City on the Hill. Courting death, or worse. Survived. Somehow.

So a few comments that have mounted since last time.

Why do surgeon/specialist physicians do such a indiscriminately abysmal job of speaking to patients? I know they can’t all be Autistic. In fact, most of the folks with Autism I know do better than any of these medicalists. And the ones who don’t are not allowed to wander about. I started out struck by how these arrogant schmucks manage to talk down to everyone. Then I figured out they talk to non-medicalists like they talk to children. 

So I told the ferd his polhode was dragging. 

The Repulsians had another debate last night. It supported the idea that all of their candidates are disasters-in-motion. Of course they blamed this on the media. That seems to be how they deny their denial and incompetence; blaming it on the media. 

Not that the Democruds are much better. In the disaster waiting to happen azimuth, that is. 

I fear that this election is going to have the same effect as the one in 1860. 


Lost in Bureaucracy land

At hospital. Day surgery for FD SCP.
Overuse of first person plural pronoun is mentally grating. I thought Gaius Julius Caesar bad enough but medicalists 10dB worse.
Hospital food is mediocre and hideously expensive. How can staff afford to eat here?
I have great fear that just when they tell me they release FD SCP, I shall collapse of sprained fundament.
Why do the visitors in waiting room hollar but staff whisper?
This hospital has no water fountains.

If This be Smarts?

Amazing! Some good (sorta) news from Texas.

Seems that that bomb they seized from the jihadist schule boy? The bomb that turned out to be a clock and the jihadist who turned out to be  a maker schule student.

Well, the local constabulary return the bomb (clock) to the jihadist (student). 

Unfortunately the family has decided to leave the country so that the kid can become a real jihadist.

Sadly, we can’t even say “Only in Texas” about this since it reflects several prevailing trends in the Yankee Republic.


Marshmallow Treats for the Nation

Ice Cream Day. The air temperature even better than yesterday. And downhill form there. Evidently some glitch in the DSL.

Yes, DSL. That’s the best available in Greater Metropolitan Arab unless you want to be feudal to the cable cancer.

On a happier note however, today is St. Crispin’s day.[Link]

And no, I don;t go observing saint’s days as a mode but this one is special even to me because it’s the propagator/motivator of one of the greatest dramatic monologues of all English literature:

KING. What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin, Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

remember this next you see a person of service who gave their health and even life for the continuance of the Republic.