We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Consider Vermont. Unlike my own state of New Hampshire, it has a bucolic image: Holsteins, dirt roads, the Vermont Teddy Bear Company, Ben & Jerry's, Howard Dean… And yet the Green Mountain State now has appalling levels of heroin and meth addiction, and the social chaos that follows. Geoffrey Norman began a recent essay in The Weekly Standard with a vignette from a town I know very well — St Johnsbury, population 7,600, motto "Very Vermont", the capital of the remote North-East Kingdom hard by the Quebec border and as far from urban pathologies as you can get. Or so you'd think. But on a recent Saturday morning, Norman reports, there were more cars parked at the needle-exchange clinic than at the farmers' market. In Vermont, there's no inner-city underclass, because there are no cities, inner or outer; there's no disadvantaged minorities, because there's only three blacks and seven Hispanics in the entire state; there's no nothing. Which is the real problem.
There is no evidence those guys didn't pay attention in school. They could have been top of the class these days...at a very Progressive school. Ask them something the schools emphasize like about Black oppression, or Islam.
What planet are you on? Would you like to try hanging out in some mixed neighborhoods and see how the police reacted to you as a black male, especially in the sort of circumstances described here? I think you would have a different perspective after your teeth were rearranged in your mouth the first time.
>>>but Northeasterners (and the English) still cling to their old-school tart, slightly bitter apples. I think it’s climate-related. If the weather makes the people sour and a bit crabby, it does the same thing to the apples.
huh. so that explains why I like granny smith.
I also really like a local apple we have called "Rambo" and "ginger gold".
The problem is that we don't have enough real racism (at least not directed towards minorities) and this deficit leaves today's activists or " social justice crusader" with nothing to do. You wouldn't expect them to simply enjoy the best standard of living in history or take advantage of a country that offers everyone the opportunity to succeed well past your fondest dreams. Where's the fun in that. No we need sociali injustice and racial discrimination to fight. But wait, but wait! Then there is the other article about Detroit and how a racialist crime family discriminated, abused and enslaved a population. At last a legitimate racial based social injustice to fight against. Oops! Wrong race. We can't be attacking outright criminals and bigots who are black. Keep moving, these are not the racists you are looking for...
...Self-Image on the Internet: Does It Really Matter? Probably not if, like me, your an old retiree with one foot in the sod. But if you're young, upward bound, and trying to make your mark, you need to remember that your internet image, like tatoos, will probably be conveying an impression of you long after you've given up trying to shake that impression.
12 absolutely delicious apples you’ve probably never tasted.
Correct: never heard of them, let alone tasted them. My favorite apple from local orchards was the Ida Red. Wait a minute. Not that Ida Red. I meant THIS Idared. Can't keep my apples straight. Or was that songs? Great eating apple, for those who like 'em tart. Turns out that Idared isn't one of those heirloom apples, but a modern hybrid, so it wouldn't have ever turned up on today's apple list.
That "thought police" thing in Maryland set my hair on fire yesterday... and then for some reason I decided to look further. The issue was not Patrick McLaw's book, but rather a four-page letter -- described in one account as a "farewell" letter -- that he had sent to local authorities. He is currently receiving treatment.
Somebody in the media apparently decided that the fuss was about his novel, and then, like lemmings, others followed.
I'm ashamed of myself for not checking, for allowing my emotional buttons to be pushed before I double-checked. I hope the "journalists" are even more ashamed of themselves.