Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Bill Reeves - Errant Knight

So I was at this community hoe down or jamboree or whatever in John - my Lord and CEO's -neighborhood. I've never heard Irish pop played by a country band before - or heard it played by senior citizens although I guess that is the fate of all Irish pop: reinterpreted Grand 'ol Opry style by Senior Strummers in places like Nevada. But that's neither here nor there, well it's here but not about here, although it's there. Ireland, that is. But I digress.

OK Reboot: So I was at this hoe down and one of the 'party' I was with plied me with a snootful of Moscato. Now I don't know if you've ever Moscatoed - I hadn't - but Moscato is apparently the Skittles of the wine family. So with my mouth appropriately puckered I headed for the fountain mewling wwwrrrr, wwwrrrr (serious puckerage) only to be confronted (in a manner that completely blocked the sidewalk) by a moppet of seven or so who pointing to the tree above lisped "I lost my necklace" - which wasn't completely true. What she had done was chuck it up into the tree. And not into some little sapling but into a big tree - about ten feet up. And this is where my whole damned chivalry thing falls apart because while I want to aid damsels in distress, I really prefer to do it when convenient to me. Yet here I was forced to de-damsel the moppet while seriously over puckered.

So long story made short: I ended up IN the tree, swinging back and forth on the branch like a demented macaque while two older gentlemen whacked at the offending jewelry. One of them - who probably should have been in a walker - used a vigorous back and forth slashing motion with his cane which quite impressed me until he started hitting me on the wrist and head. The other gent, who was taller and more strategic, took advantage of the additional downswing that my attempts to avoid the wayward whacks caused and expertly snagged the necklace with his umbrella to the cheers of absolutely no one. The young Jezebel ungratefully pocketed her 75 cent bauble and strolled off without as much as a thank you - after all, her mother DID tell her not to talk to strangers.

So still puckered but now quite pleased with myself (lookit, I'm a hero!), I finished my jaunt to the water fountain. As I returned, I spied our little Delilah: tossing the same damned necklace into the same damned tree. Well you can probably guess what I did next: I drew myself up to my full height and...forcefully strode the other way. There was no way in hell I was going to let that little Mata Hari cry at me again.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

We need to regulate nudity

For the record:  I am in favor of a certain amount of public nudity I just think there need to be some (to paraphrase politicians who have none) commonsense regulations to protect the tender psyches of....well...me for one.  I know, I know that I'm supposed to be a libertarian who says everything is swell and should be legal but even I have limits.  In my case psychological and physiological ones....I just...well...I just have limits.  So in order to protect those needing protecting I propose the following commonsense nudity regulations built along the lines of our driving regulations:

1. Driving has a minimum age - nuding should have a maximum one.
2. There are student drivers who can drive without being licensed so long as a licensed driver who loves them is in the car with them at all times.  Likewise there can be nuders that are over the maximum age so long as a licensed nuder who loves them is willing to be seen with them at all times, never more than three feet away. And critically, they are not allowed to deny their relationship with the overage nuder.
3. Just as there is a maximum blood alcohol level above which a driver loses his license, there should be a maximum Saggy Skin Level above which a nuder gets his license yanked.
4. We will also need to establish standards for "reckless nuding", "nude rage", "tail nuding" and so on.  The Nuding Cops will need to be trained to deal sensitively with "multi nude pile ups".



In general we really need to think through this whole nude thing and put a framework of law and regulation into place before it is unleashed on an unsuspecting public.  The Precautionary Principle really, really, really needs to be applied here.

More chin stroking about this regulatory dilemma here.

Monday, July 13, 2015

You must understand: Claire McKaskill is a Cronite and Cronite hate true Socialists almost as much as Capitalists

And the Cronite candidate is of course la Clinton.
“Bernie is a socialist and claims that title,” said Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-Mo.), an early Clinton supporter. “I just don’t believe that someone who is a self-described socialist is going to be elected to be president of the United States.” 
Yeah because the Cronites need a career criminal in office to keep the gravy flowing.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Rainy days and First Days always get me down

So I left last Friday morning to go to the board retreat for my first official day working with this left coast software business I've been fooling around with. Mom drove me. I've been staying with my parents to help dad deal with his various cancers and other maladies only to watch him set land survival records and threaten to outlive his doctors (that'll wipe the smug off their faces). It's not as bad as it sounds: I have my own floor and since my mother threw away everything I had ever owned the day I left for college and then promptly moved to Houston (without leaving a forwarding address I might add), I'm not forced to sleep in my old room. But I am forced to sleep while being stared at by many copies of my leering adolescent self. How I got it into my head that I was good looking back then I do not know.

So where was I? Ah yes, with mom on the way to the airport. I thought dear old mom might be regressing a bit because she bought me new underwear. Which is what she used to do every fall when school started. Fortunately she didn’t insist on taking a picture of me with my pencil box and everything before I got on the bloody plane.

Out of the car and into the terminal. Past the huge new International Terminal project. This for the second 'domestic' airport. I'm sorry but I'm afraid this whole "Houston Boom Town of Destiny" thing is getting out of hand.

Beyond that the Southwest greeter was shouting "check in left, bag check only right!" at the top of her lungs. Being a seasoned (basted and roasted) traveler I moved right while avoiding eye contact (of course). Offended by my lack of Texas neighborly-ness, she stopped me and shouted "hey! bag check only" while I nodded and tugged my forelock. It's embarrassing enough, that I, who have been diamond and platinum clubbed the world over had to check a bag, but to be herded. Well let's just say I know how steers feel just after their “steerage” ceremony. Or do I? Because I then was processed through the TSA - or as I like call them: the one percenter's - chute. I call them that not because average comp for these minderbinders crests above $100K but because by my reckoning they will uncover a whole one percent of the security threats that go through an airport. Now follow my math here: according to their own 'quality control' report in the last comprehensive multi airport test they missed 95% of the fake bombs, guns, rocket launchers, bushel bags of Semtex and other ordinance that was lugged past them by bushy bearded guys in man dresses while catching 98% of the little old ladies with weaponized titanium hips. But that's only the beginning of their security theater virtuosity.  One of my favorite pastimes while waiting to be "processed" is to think of all the ways I could get a bomb on a plane without going through the chute. And that's what gets me from 5 to 1 percent effectiveness.

Of course today they had a bomb sniffing dog (who as a Federal Dog was probably pulling down 30Gs with low deductible Veterinary care and retirement to a luxury kennel after five years tossed in) so maybe that doubled their effectiveness to...2%. But in fairness to the TSAistas, I think the existential pointlessness of their job is finally beginning to sink in, because after being directed by a ($100K) federal employee who was literally looking at a screen that alternated a large left and right arrow and then pointing left and right with it (I kid you not) I ended up going through the "Aw fuck it, who gives a rip" or as they euphemistically put it: "Expedited" line. What's next? The pre-cleared terrorist line? "I'm sorry sir but this line is only for pre cleared terrorists from Federally Accredited terrorist organizations like Al Qaeda, Al Ansar, Boko Haram and ISIS. I'm sure you understand that the Federal Government can't accommodate every Tom, Dick and Crazy that wants to blow up a plane."

Incidentally, a couple hours at an airport listening to the omnipresent happy talk drone of CNN is enough to make you want to shoot that sonofabitch Ted Turner.  My God, My God why have you forsaken me? I blame Jane Fonda. But it's my own fault - tempted by filthy lucre not to mention justifiably showing up for work a few hours late - I took the oversold deal.  The gate agent said "you're in luck Mr. Reeves! Your new flight will get you in ten minutes before this one plus you get $366 to boot!" Which I suppose is "good news" unless you were hoping to screw around in the Las Vegas airport for a few hours the way I was.  Smug bastard.

Speaking of smug bastards, while being forced to listen to CNN, Bill Clinton came on saying something in that sobby voice of his about how wonderful it was that South Carolina was pulling old Dixie down (so to speak). This of course is the same Bill Clinton who as a four term governor of corrupt one party post segregationist Democrat Arkansas signed a flag law and accompanying statement specifically describing how the Arkansas flag had a large single star " to honor our Confederate heritage”. Like with Gay marriage where Obama, Clinton (his and hers) and almost all other prominent Democrat pols were agin’ it for “deeply held religious reasons” until the precise moment is became useful to be ‘for’ it (I mean God doesn’t even vote, so screw Him), the Confederate flag has only become anathema since the voters who consider it part of their heritage stopped voting….Democrat. The Port Side party really should change their motto from “Happy Days are Here Again”(because they’re not) to “You tell me what gets me money, power and (if you’re Slick Wilbur) babes and that’s what I’ll say I believe.” Until the moment that some other belief system (Islam?) looks like it will get them more money, power and babes, that is.

At that point I got on the plane and breathed into the airsickness bag until I stopped hyperventilating. God I hate first days.  It's probably going to rain.

In government all the math is terrible.

This is a paraphrase of Douglas Adams' "in the universe all the numbers are terrible". Meaning the numbers are so gigantic we cannot cope with them. This is true with government but the real problem with those we serve, oops - I mean public servants - is that the math is so negative. We cannot cope with the scale of the bankruptcy and profligacy in our own back yard so we focus on Greece or Venezuela or Argentina. Believing - hoping really - that we are different in kind rather than degree from these prodigiously profligate frauds.

But we know that we are simply not quite as far along the Pilgrim's regress. That we have yet to "choose" the bad paths that our corrupt and profligate parents, grandparents choices have made essential so we may regress serenely, comfortably.

Our children - beset by our a
trigger warnings, sexual witch hunts and the appalling anti-racist racism, hetero phobic anti-homophobia and bigoted gender equality that our peers have poisoned the culture with - assume that they can trust us. But only because we stopped teaching them history and instead teach them fantasy.
And before long our grand children will be here and we will lie to them and loot their futures too. As long as we have breath and they have backs for us to pile burdens on.on.l

And a corrupt Illinois shall lead us all.

My friend Mark Glennon runsWirepoints. He was on a radio show recently talking about public pensions.
Public pensions have bankrupted the state of Illinois, counties, and virtually all municipalities in Illinois. Bill Gurtin ofGurtin Fixed Income has said he would decline buying the public debt of two places: Puerto Rico and anywhere in Illinois

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Sharkano: Cool, well hot and acidic really

National geographic has a story at the link. Willis E.  points out the obvious challenge to climate dogma regarding ocean acidification. Over and over we discover them dogmas don't hunt.

The assault on suburbia

The left activists and their subsidy whoring business friends have decided that with gay marriage a lock and Trans and gender free rights almost certain now the suburbs must be taken over and transformed. Because controlling virtually every city is a loser if the people move to the 'burbs. So the suburbs must be taken over by the super state.

Kotkin explains why this is such a fraud. The left never stops grasping for more power. They are a borg. They must be stopped.

Wednesday, July 08, 2015

Push the damned button

So I was driving a rented car and had about an hour to get where I was going. My usual  approach  to pass the time  is to listen to a podcast on some improving topic like a revolutionary new pruning technique or new dance step but my extra clever smart phone was low on juice and I had to save it for work. Now as some of you know, this presents a dilemma for me because this means I could have been left alone with my thoughts for over an hour. And in general I'm not someone I like to spend a lot of time alone with.  It's nothing personal - well I guess it is personal - but it's just that sometimes the conversations I have with myself get a bit bogged down  - it's a little like going on an LSD trip without the lysergic acid or the chaperone....I suppose the mot juste would be "weird".  So anyway I was eyeing myself in the mirror to see what I would say next when I remembered that cars had those old fashioned radio thingies in them. And if you pressed the button they would play songs and rants and try to sell you stuff. So hallelujah! I was saved. I wouldn't have to listen to myself drone, instead I could listen to someone else do it for me which I find more interesting because when I drone I almost always know what I'm going to say next.

So I whipped out onto the freeway and pressed the button. Out came static with a voice that sounded like it was coming all the way from Mars (The deep south of Mars) and then some strange staticky caterwauling by some Martian chick. So I pushed the button again and out came a religious program talking about getting Power from Jesus (my these green energy people are resourceful!) So I ixnayed on the Esusjay and on came National Public Radio so naturally I punched the button lickety split: more staticky Martians. Again: Jesus. Again: NPR. Martians. Jesus. NPR. Martians, Jesus, NPR. Now I am sorry but I don't like southern Martian music and I sure as hell am not going to listen to some self righteous scold preach at me about the end of the world and tell me to repent. On the other hand I would have listened to the Jesus program but it was Baptist and I'm Presbyterian and we have strict rules about listening to people who deliberately add syllables to their words (yay-yess and so on).

So once again I saw myself looming in the mirror and was about to panic when I realized that the radio thingy had two buttons - one for the Band (which I naturally thought meant rock band) and one for the Station which I guess is the one that has the songs. With more relief than you could know unless you've spent a lot if time with me I pushed the Station button and out came Classic Rock 105.7 The Drone. Gratefully I pulled over to the side of the road and thanked (the non-Baptist, non extra-syllabic) God for saving me from myself. I also thanked the Gods of NPR but since I've never been quite sure who they are I thanked 'em all: Moloch, Gaia, Isis (no not the hackemoffs, the Egyptian Chick from way back - who do you think I am?), Cthulu, Zul, the Stay Puft Pastry Monster you name it.

Because I ain't  takin' no chances getting stuck alone with me.

Nosireebob.

Sunday, July 05, 2015

On Iran is Obama a coward, a fool or a traitor?

Even mainstream press outlets like Reuters are (politely) incredulous (perhaps unlike the Obami, Reuters and AP writers love their children even more than their ideology -who knew?).

In the last few days the AP published that the Obama administration’s coziness with Iran is the “new normal,” the WSJ revealed that the administration started secretly seeking reconciliation with Iran almost from day 1, and Reuters assessed that the Obama administration has become Iran’s lawyer. These aren’t neocon opinion pieces. They’re full-blown news articles from top diplomatic writers at some of the world’s leading outlets. The Obama administration will need to somehow overcome these suspicions if it’s going to convince Congress that the White House will enforce an Iran deal. Thus the record has been 100 percent the opposite.

The tragedy is none of this makes a dingoes fetid kidney's worth of difference. Obama never seriously believed that even a Democrat dominated Senate would ratify this madness. But he knows that just signing it will give the world a green light to abandon sanctions, giving the Mullahs all the money, weapons and fissle material necessary to make life a living Islamic hell for hundreds of millions of people.

Attaboy, Barry. Hope and change indeed.