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.
In case you are refurbishing any temperate-zone perennial borders this fall, here are some of my pics of some informal borders at the NYBG. Even informal borders need structure: a wall, a hedge, a path - some architecture.
Every plant here has a label, so I remember what a number of them are if you ask in the comments:
A pal had never heard of Murray. Here's an introduction. I find his thoughts about "social capital" most interesting but, on many topics, he is a hard-headed, liberty-oriented thinker.
Here are a few of our Murray links from very recent years:
Why Capitalism Has an Image Problem - Charles Murray examines the cloud now hanging over American business—and what today's capitalists can do about it.
I don't remember it, but, according to the doctor, the first words out of my mouth when I woke up were,
I've had pleasanter experiences.
That sounds like me.
When I next woke up, I delivered a line I had practiced just for the occasion:
¡¿Dónde están las chicas calientes?!
That's "Where are the hot babes?", for those of you scoring at home. It's much funnier in Spanish because caliente literally means 'hot', so what I was really asking was, "Where are the women burning up with fever?"
Scoring in the clinic, however, proved more difficult. I couldn't believe the nurses didn't find my swollen, drooling, tube-laden body sexually appealing. I was also hampered by having to use a walker, which allowed the little vixens to scamper merrily away, dagnabbit.
What I'm saying is, my visit to the clinic was utter hell!
They also did some kind of operation, as I recall. The doctor said it was "just like a tonsillectomy — except at the other end." It turned out, however, that he told a blatant lie. I did not get a bowl of ice cream after it was over, like I did when I had my tonsils out when I was 12, so I'm still a little miffed about that.
As for my relatives in Georgia, I must have met 20 new blood relatives and about 3,000 new in-laws. We're a prolific bunch here in the South. While they were in sheer awe of being in the presence of a real, live Californian (granted, it's a small town), I don't think it was until I knocked out Pink Floyd's 'Celestial Voices' on the piano that they realized something different was going on. That piano looked a hundred years old and unquestionably had been played by ten thousand different hands, but somehow I doubt any Pink Floyd had ever been played on it.
I also doubt any Deep Purple had ever been played on my cousin's mandolin, but that's a different story.
Physically, I'm doing okay. Just weak, but that was expected. There's some residual pain but I have a veritable cornucopia of painkillers out there to choose from, lucky me. Besides costs, there are a few other advantages to having an operation in Mexico. One of them is that the doctors aren't hampered by all of that silly 'regulation' stuff and can ladle out the painkillers by the bucketful. I smuggled home dozens of 'samplers' from ten different brands. I'm currently going with Pain-B-Gon™, a finely-tuned mixture of Vicodin, OxyContin, various psychotropic drugs, all laced with the strongest caffeine allowable by law. It really hits the spot!
And let's not forget the real lesson from all this: that it was getting a complete physical that revealed the badness in the first place. As I said in the original Big C post, I was this close to skipping the colonscopy because it is, after all, a pain in the whatsis and takes extra time and money, but I'm obviously glad I didn't. I'm still facing some steep post-operative costs (expensive drugs + 3 visits to the Miami hospital), so if you missed out on the Save-Our-Doc campaign before and would like to help out, you can toss a few clams into the pot here.
Next up? Well, there seems to be some kind of debate going on tomorrow night, although I'm not sure of the details yet. I presume the GOP has exercised its right to use the Substitute Clause and have Newt Gingrich take Obama down a few notches in the warm-up round, but we'll have to see. I'll have a post on it tomorrow.
Again, my deepest thanks to everyone who helped out.
"The sinister fact about literary censorship in England is that it is largely voluntary. Unpopular ideas can be silenced, and inconvenient facts kept dark, without the need for any official ban. Anyone who has lived long in a foreign country will know of instances of sensational items of news — being kept right out of the British press, not because the Government intervened but because of a general tacit agreement that ‘it wouldn’t do’ to mention that particular fact."
Conservatives mount strong efforts to undo the damage from media bias, but there is no serious talk in conservative circles about long-term strategies for gaining control of the media and using the media to build the conservative base. Left-wing bias in the media is just accepted as a constant, as immutable, almost as if it is a law of physics. The option of having conservative moderators hitting Obama with hard questions never even seemed to be an option. For the Romney-Ryan campaign, the key questions in the current election are how to point out Obama's record without being accused of negativity by Obama's protectors in the media and how to present their positions so as not to get painted as extremists.
The left's political strategy, on the other hand, has been to gain control of the sources of information that shape the culture and, in so doing, to determine the long-term direction of the nation.
With Dylan's Not Dark Yet. She's too young and pretty to sing this song, but she pulls it off. She borrows Dylan's incredible phrasing. Buddy found this, so you know it's worth it. Trust us:
Here's another lovely offering from Severa with Vlado Kreslin (no idea what they are saying):
I like home-grown tomatoes because they taste good. My gardens have always been "organic" only because I have never had a problem with insect pests - I grow enough so that the bugs and animals can have some - and because I enrich the garden soil with manure and peat moss (which are delivered to my garden center by polluting 16-wheelers). Nothing whatsoever to do with nutrition or good old Gaia, though.
America has been subject to food faddism forever. "Organic" produce is just the latest marketing scam for the wealthy and the body-obsessed. Here's a good update on the topic: Organic Illusions
As we've said here ad nauseum, there are three separate subjects here. First, the politically- and financially-powerful Education Industry. Second, the transfer of culture and knowledge. Third, the interest in learning and the capacity of kids to learn (plus, obviously, the value the family places on curiosity and knowledge).
Judging from what I see and hear daily, we have long reached the point of diminishing returns on the public school front.
Back to the warm, cheery lodge's dock after a day of duck hunting in Canada. Fire roaring in the fireplace, the bar is open, hors d'oevres hot and waiting for us.
What's for supper? We hope for the beer-batter fried Walleye, fresh from the lake.
The article is at Ricochet. The comments are good.
For young docs these days, it's about paying off $200,000 in loans (not to mention 3-4 years after that as an intern and resident on a pittance), the incredible burdens of paperwork and new regulations, conflicts between wanting to be independent and the security temptations of getting a salary.
The big change in the past 20 years is women becoming 50% of medical school students. When I went to med school, it was around 25%. Many of the women, I have observed, are happy working limited hours, do not mind being salaried, and do not welcome the burdens and risks of private practice, taking full personal responsibility for patients, being on call, etc. They want to have babies, with work as a sideline. It's a big change from the independent cowboy medical practice of the past. Those cowboys were my role models.
Without wanting to sound sexist, I do have to observe that women are more comfortable following the rules than men are.
Little old lady walks into the local bank and informs the teller that she would like to deposit $250,000 in cash, and would like to discuss it with the branch manager.
She goes into the manager's little office to discuss details of her deposit, and he asks how she came upon this windfall. "Gambling," she says.
"You must be good," says he. "I am," she replied. "For example, I'll bet you $25,000 that, tomorrow morning when I come in with the cash in my lawyer's hands, your balls will be square."
"Are you serious? OK, you're on." They shake on it.
Next morning, she arrives in his office with lawyer and bulging briefcase in hand to make the deposit. Manager says "OK, great. Now, what about our little bet? My balls are just the same as they always were."
"Well," she responds, "for $25,000 I need to check for myself." He pulls down his trousers and she checks his male parts carefully while her lawyer begins banging his head on the desk.
"What's the problem?" the manager asks.
"Nothing really," the old lady answers. "It's just that I bet him $100,000. that I could have your balls in my hands in 15 minutes."
5:13 Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise.
5:14 Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.
5:15 The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.
5:16 Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective.
5:17 Elijah was a human being like us, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth.
5:18 Then he prayed again, and the heaven gave rain and the earth yielded its harvest.
5:19 My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another,
5:20 you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner's soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.
That means it's time to pick up the dekes and head the boat a mile or two down the lake back to ye olde lodge. Cocktail Hour. If the outboard won't start, we have oars. Done that, too, but it's only half-fun.
The more you do, the more people you meet, and the more places you go, the more luck you get. Talked to somebody last week who got a new job by just chatting with a stranger in a barbecue joint take-out line.
What sort of job? Financial software development. Salary? Over $200,000.
A history of bankruptcy puts a nice ding on a person's credit rating and future employability. Even so, sometimes it's the only way to get a second chance in life if one has been highly irresponsibe and, hopefully, learned from it. Zero Hedge had this last Spring: Student Loan Debt Slaves In Perpetuity - A True Story Of "Bankruptcy Hell".
Naturally, cancelling out loans via bankruptcy will make lenders more cautious about lending to any student. But who is the biggest lender? Us, the government. Who is the biggest beneficiary? College administrations. Do you hear gripes about college administrator salaries? Nope, but college presidents make about the same as greedy CEOs.
Among other sun perennials I plan to squeeze into my new borders are a Shasta Daisy variety, one that grows 2' max instead of the tall ones.
Nowadays, they come in varying heights. Who built the original Shasta Daisy? The great Luther Burbank, of course. The guy was a master and pioneer of genetic engineering for commercial purposes. His russet potato is still the biggest seller, especially for French Fries.
BTW, you can google Bluestone Perennials for a wide selection of well-priced, fall-shipping plants. They are small, but if you put them in now they will grow robustly in the Spring and triple their size in a few weeks.
Here, where the world is quiet; Here, where all trouble seems Dead winds' and spent waves' riot In doubtful dreams of dreams; I watch the green field growing For reaping folk and sowing, For harvest-time and mowing, A sleepy world of streams.
I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep; Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.
Here life has death for neighbour, And far from eye or ear Wan waves and wet winds labour, Weak ships and spirits steer; They drive adrift, and whither They wot not who make thither; But no such winds blow hither, And no such things grow here.
No growth of moor or coppice, No heather-flower or vine, But bloomless buds of poppies, Green grapes of Proserpine, Pale beds of blowing rushes Where no leaf blooms or blushes Save this whereout she crushes For dead men deadly wine.
Pale, without name or number, In fruitless fields of corn, They bow themselves and slumber All night till light is born; And like a soul belated, In hell and heaven unmated, By cloud and mist abated Comes out of darkness morn.
Though one were strong as seven, He too with death shall dwell, Nor wake with wings in heaven, Nor weep for pains in hell; Though one were fair as roses, His beauty clouds and closes; And well though love reposes, In the end it is not well.
Pale, beyond porch and portal, Crowned with calm leaves, she stands Who gathers all things mortal With cold immortal hands; Her languid lips are sweeter Than love's who fears to greet her To men that mix and meet her From many times and lands.
She waits for each and other, She waits for all men born; Forgets the earth her mother, The life of fruits and corn; And spring and seed and swallow Take wing for her and follow Where summer song rings hollow And flowers are put to scorn.
There go the loves that wither, The old loves with wearier wings; And all dead years draw thither, And all disastrous things; Dead dreams of days forsaken, Blind buds that snows have shaken, Wild leaves that winds have taken, Red strays of ruined springs.
We are not sure of sorrow, And joy was never sure; To-day will die to-morrow; Time stoops to no man's lure; And love, grown faint and fretful, With lips but half regretful Sighs, and with eyes forgetful Weeps that no loves endure.
From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light: Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight: Nor wintry leaves nor vernal, Nor days nor things diurnal; Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.
As I read it, the poem is written from the point of view of an ancient Roman or Greek. Proserpine, the Roman version of Persephone who was the wife of Hades, had a garden of poppies - the flower of care-free sleep and blissful forgetfulness. Swinburne was a character, just one more of those brilliant, wealthy drunken Brit writers and critics who liked to ride horses and died of self-inflicted wounds.
So much of political debates for the past 150 years have been about whether central control by supposed experts is preferable to private efforts to be good caretakers of their resources.
Regular readers know that we tend to have a deep distrust of government, central planning, and centralized power and believe that we are line with the Founders in that regard.
We have regularly posted about The Tragedy of the Commons here. The moral of the tragedy of the commons extends far beyond cow pastures, vast herds of bison, and marine resources. (In fact, it extends to government itself which tends to view the populace as an inexhaustable resource for its own purposes.)
George Orwell, via 
'I'm spiritual but not religious' is a cop-out
Big Harvest Moon last night and tonight
Among other sun perennials I plan to squeeze into my new borders are a Shasta Daisy variety, one that grows 2' max instead of the tall ones. 
Here, where the world is quiet;
So much of political debates for the past 150 years have been about whether central control by supposed experts is preferable to private efforts to be good caretakers of their resources.