The Consequences of Law and Order

Amanda Palmer is a twit. I met her after her Birmingham show and she seemed nice. She married a writer I’m quite fond of and otherwise has behaved as well as you’d expect despite some crappy political assumptions. Then she wrote this “poem.” The scare quotes are there because I want you, gentle reader, to understand that I don’t consider liberal use of the Enter button to constitute poetry.

At least one writer has called it the worst poem of all time. Well…

This is secondary. I mean secondary to Palmer as an intro to what I was actually thinking but first I want to point out, and that is neither first nor secondary as that honor has already been doled out so we’ll go with tertiary. Tertiarilly I want to point to a line from her Boston bomber elegy:

“you don’t know how to dance but you give it a shot anyway.”

That is dancing, right? That’s the fun of it.

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I’m Definitely Not Being Watched

Remember when we were younger? There was a spring in our step, a twinkle in our eyes, a dream in our heart, and a suspicion that the Patriot Act was overstepping by checking on our library records to get at our reading habits. Those were the halcyon days.

Of course, now we accept such intrusions with all the grace and spine of calamari. It’s a sign of poor taste to object to being investigated. I mean, if you’re innocent why not welcome the chance to prove so? Never mind the expense of a legal defense. The process is definitely not the punishment (See Flynn, Michael) and objecting to the process makes you look a teensie bit… well, guilty.

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Doctor Who and Why You Wont Get Your Roommate to Watch It

I’m watching Doctor Who with my son. I’m caught up through half of the Capaldi episodes. He started from zero. We’re late into the Matt Smith shows and while I like Tennant best, the writing for Smith is just incredible.

Yes he got a Gaiman episode and that’s bound to skew things, but the planning and the long game relating to the Ponds is breathtaking.

My plan here is not to lionize Doctor Who, it’s writers and actors. I’m here to tell you how to turn people off of a show that you love.

Start with your favorite episode.

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Mensa Likes Sinister Stuff

I’m told that 80% of Mensa members are left-handed. That’s supposed to make me think that left handed people are smarter than those of us that can use scissors.

I’m improperly cowed.

I’m a fan of thinking inside the box. We’ve fetishized out of bounds thinking to the point where math is racist so I’m a fan of reigning things in. But as to left handed people being smarter because they make up a larger percentage of MENSA roll calls?

Let’s take an occasion to think outside the box.

Maybe lefties are just joiners.

A Return to Normalcy

About a third of us were maskless, including a similar fraction of the employees. The remaining two thirds of shoppers paid no notice; nary a Karen nor any of her subspecies were to be found. At least they weren’t heard from. I’ve long suspected that those scolds only hector when they feel the crowd at their back.

I spoke with a maskless employee at the customer service desk who called the maskless manager over and the maskless manager and I had a maskless conversation about the possibility of her taking on my oldest as a grocery bagger a few days a week. He wants a summer job and I’m all for it. He hopes to try his hand at one of several restaurants where he’s already buddies with the staff and gets treated like a mascot. I want him to be a number for a while, learn to deal with people who he doesn’t already have a friendship with, and earn praise and criticism from people he hasn’t known since he was eight. Publix grocery store, particularly now that they don’t require a facial security blanket is just the ticket. Plus, he can ride his bike to work so I won’t have to drive him.

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The Multiverse and Me or, The Multiverse and Me and Me and Me…

I’m a science fiction fan and I like watching the occasional documentary on quantum physics, cosmology, and the nature of reality. I have a shelf of half read books on those same subjects. For some reason, usually around page 150, the explanation for the laity ends and the sentence “This is the paper I submitted to the Nobel Committee.” rears its ugly head. It’s all equations with Greek letters and horrid nightmares of high school Calculus come rushing back.

I’m no mathematician. I accept that. I do find that stuff interesting though.

One of the most interesting is the theory that each choice you make spawns one or many alternate universes. Every possibility must happen. If I turn left there is a universe where I turn right. There’s also one were I hit a tree, stall out, have a heart attack, just sit there for no reason until I starve to death, etc. They all happen.

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If You Haven’t Been Reading the Charles C.W. Clarke Posts About Rebekah Jones, You Are Denying Yourself Immense Pleasure

If you are unfamiliar with Rebekah Jones, she’s the alleged whistleblower who claimed she was pressured to “fudge” (her word) the Florida COVID numbers in order to make Governor Ron DeSantis look good on a national stage. As Cooke ably points out, her claim is nonsense on stilts.

It was noted that the knives were out on DeSantis before the Wuhan Flu emerged from the lab or wet market or whatever. He did far better with minorities than a Republican is allowed to do and if he were able to take his electoral alchemy national he’d be a damn good bet for the Presidency. The Democrats can’t abide anyone leaving their plantation so he had to be taken down.

She gave the Left something they had no power to resist. She gave them exactly what they wanted to hear.

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I Really Don’t Curse All That Much, But Honestly, What the Heck Is Going On With This Fauci Guy?

I just like this painting. It has nothing to do with the article.
I just like this painting. It has nothing to do with the text. It’s pretty though, isn’t it?

I try not to use curse words when I write because I think it diminishes the message. That’s not the case today. Expect “dickbag,” “fucktard,” and “asshat” and multiple variations of such to pepper this post. I read the Nicholas Wade article. Fuck Fouci. Fuck that little fucking bastard.

Imagine the nerve of that little shit. First he says don’t wear masks. Then he says wear a mask. Then the ungovernable ego of that eternal jackass says wear two masks. Two of those statements tell me that masks don’t work, but whatever. This shitbag likes his TV (television) time and won’t let go. He even went to the NY Times and said he was lying about how to deal with the Wuhan Flu and still gets air time. Fuck this guy and his endless power grab dipshittery.

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Kids and Their %*^%$&^$ Language

There’s a great brewery here in Birmingham called Back Forty Beer Company. They began a little north in Gadsden but in 2018 they built a magnificent palace to beer, burgers, pizza, sports, and outdoor fun with room for football games and fire pits.

I was there last Saturday in the late afternoon with my wife and two sons, my sister-in-law and her husband and two kids, and my mother-in-law.

We hadn’t taken the kids in a few years, and not because it was the scene of then six-year-old’s last and greatest temper tantrum – He wanted a double decker burger that was bigger than his head, much less his mouth, and he was furious that I ordered the already oversized single burger for him instead. There was flopping and screaming. We haven’t been back because we just don’t get out that much. I hear that’s not an unusual thing lately.

This time we sat outside at one of the picnic tables and that six-year-old tantrum thrower, now eight and more ready to appeal to reason, came up to the table of adults and was near tears. He’d been throwing a football around with a bunch of kids and one of them called him an idiot.

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RollBamaRoll Tailgating: Not Late This Time

I posted over at the rah rah football site which is today a rah rah basketball site. Weird how a little success in bouncy hoopty ball will turn even a basketball illiterate like me into a fan. Well played Coach Oats.

Basketball has been the purview of my wife, she of the Duke diploma. (Whispered voice, very whispered. “How is Duke doing in the tournament this year?”)

I’ve always kind of liked UCLA. Never had reason not to. Suddenly I feel a wave of libelous slander and unkind words bursting forth for no reason other than those bastards stand between my beloved Crimson Tide and the Elite Eight.

6:15 CT on TNT. Roll Tide.