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.
Wellfleet Harbor. The owners are tough, muscular, hard-working SOBs with tats and sexy girlfriends. Survivors. They drink and smoke and try not to die by drowning. It is traditional that fishermen cannot swim: there is no point to it. Fishermen do not go to the beach.
The shrinkage of government is supposed to be more severe here than in America, where the supposedly “savage,” “draconian,” etc., cuts recently agreed to mean that for a decade Washington must scrape by on $43.7 trillion rather than $46.1 trillion. Really.
The British state is morbidly obese. For a third consecutive year, government will spend more than half the gross domestic product — partly because half of all jobs created during the 13 years of Labor Party governance that ended in May 2010 were in the public sector.
Britain’s debt, now 62 percent of GDP, is scheduled to rise to 71 percent in 2013-14 before declining. Government devours 47 percent of national income.
Let me speak plain. That’s part of the problem in the black community. And many other communities. But a particular problem in the black communities, we have too many men making too many babies that they don’t want to take care of and then we end up dealing with your children. We’re not running a big babysitting service. We’re running a big government and a great city. Take care of your children. All of them. All of them.
Insty: ON THIS WEEK’S INSTAVISION, I celebrate 10 years of blogging and talk about where the blogosphere has been, and where it’s going.
The Grey Seals are not uncommon along the Cape Cod ocean beaches. Last summer, they were swimming around 15-20 feet from us, perhaps thinking we were some new sort of seal. They are big, curious, and harmless.
On a drizzly day last week, Mrs. BD and I hiked the beach from Newcomb's Hollow to Cahoon's Hollow (and back). We saw quite a few Greys in the water, looking almost like swimming black Labs.
Signs advise people that it is a crime to harass the seals, but there are no signs telling the seals not to harass the people.
One effect of the growing seal populations is that they attract the big sharks, Great Whites, Hammerheads, and others. Big sharks, of course, cannot distinguish a seal from a swimmer, but shark attacks are not really a problem, despite Jaws. When you see fins ("she's getting four stars from the road"), just get out of the water and read Moby Dick on the beach until they go away.
Photo above is a Grey Seal, resting on a beach.
Photo below is the crowded Cahoon's Hollow beach last week, in Wellfleet. Yes, we did have lunch at The Beachcomber. Duh. Sipp told me he used to pretend to play bass guitar in his band there. They specialize in blues and reggae, nightly during the summer. It feels like a Key West bar - quite cheerful and relaxed - and the seafood is pretty good. If you are under 50, be there or be square... but the music is too late at night for me.
A few pics of the Wellfleet Beachcomber below the fold, for Sipp's amusement -
... long experience of impunity has taught the rioters that they have nothing to fear from the law, which in England has become almost comically lax—except, that is, for the victims of crime.
Pond at the South Wellfleet Audubon, last week. This is really a dammed-up small stream, dammed by dirt farmers a century or two ago and not a natural pond. Wellfleet's natural ponds, large enough for sailing Sunfishes, are deep, clear kettle ponds which are eminently swimmable:
It turns out we are the ones who failed Him. We weren't prepared for a mega-dosage of awesomeness. We were too dimwitted to grasp the decency of central planning. And the insistence of troublemakers to engage in debate and vote, in fact, is the most serious threat to this nation's future.
As in the case of the pitiful Maureen Dowd. What asteroid does she live on? I don't have the time or the patience to point out every error of logic and fact in her piece. It is just mind-boggling. She needs to get out in the world a little.
Until marriage is restored as the norm for child-rearing in the inner city, black and Hispanic crime rates and education failure will continue to be disproportionate. No government program can possibly compensate for the absence of fathers in the home and the absence of the cultural expectation that men will be responsible for their children.
Also,
The mayor is eager to talk about marriage for gays and lesbians, but he cannot bring himself to use the word when it comes to black and Hispanic heterosexual couples. His initiative proposes to ensure that both parents are “fully engaged . . . even if they don’t live together.” But men who have fathered several children by several different women—the dominant pattern of inner-city “multipartner fertility” today—are unlikely to be able to engage “fully” with all their children, even if such out-of-home engagement were an adequate substitute for a married father in the home.
Bloomberg, Soros, et al are insane. That's not a diagnosis: it means that they are not in reality. I doubt that either of them have ever sat down and talked to a 16 year-old single high school drop-out mother of three who happily and willingly consigned herself and her kids to a life of dependency and dysfunction. Have a kid? Get your own apartment! And a check from the city! And free medical care and food stamps! Why not? Their moms did the same thing. Normalization of dysfunction and dependency.
The government incentives are perverse, and it's on our nickel.
I'm not an expert about the rioting and looting in England, but I take the reporting from there with a grain of salt. Why? Editors usually have a theme they impose upon stories. The scale of England's will require careful and honest examination.
Meanwhile, a New York Times reporter who covered the riot, violence and looting in Brooklyn's Crown Heights in 1991 just finally broke silence about the shoddy and misleading theme imposed by the NYT editors. It's worth reading: Telling It Like It Wasn't.
One of his best, I think. 1997, such a short time ago. Song brings tears to my eyes. Even if you aren't a fan, give this a try - do it for me, your Editor Dog in Chief:
Sue and Dan gave me permission to post this free ad for Aunt Sukie's, which is the extended BD family's favorite B&B in Wellfleet - or on the entire Cape, for that matter. My parents have stayed there, as have my son and his bride.
When the kids were young, we'd always rent a house (which permitted dogs) for a week or ten days - often large enough to accommodate friends and relatives too. Now, Mrs. BD and I often travel alone and, happily, we like to do exactly the same things (mostly). We don't need a whole house, and 4-5 days suffice for our annual doses of cold salt water swimming, fresh Wellfleet oysters, and touching base with our old haunts plus always adding one or two new ones. (Last year, we went twice to bracket our trip to Austria and Germany - and to drag Gwynnie and spouse up to the Cape).
Anyway, we love to stay at Aunt Sukie's. Why bother owning a place, when you can go where you want anytime and leave the worry and maintenance to others? (And I am always cognizant of Thoreau's admonition about the dangers of one's possessions owning you.) Besides the setting and their antique house with Sue's beautiful cottage gardens, Sue and Dan are truly gracious and enjoyable hosts. They have to be gracious to put up with a neanderthal right-wing nut like me.
One of the best things about Aunt Sukie's (named after Sue's great-great something aunt who once owned the house in 1830) are the guests you meet there at breakfast. I don't know how they get the guests they get, but they are blessed. Interesting, accomplished people from all over the world who aren't looking for a pretentious Four Seasons Resort with a heated swimming pool. The atmosphere is such that, after a breakfast or two together at the big table, you all tend to become instant temporary pals and are exchanging tips about how to spend the day energetically and fruitfully.
It's not fancy (small rooms, no Jacuzzis, etc); it's simple New England-style in the best sense. For those for whom it matters, they do have a Dartmouth College room available too in the old part of the place.
View from our bedroom deck towards your private beach, with Great Island in the background:
Isn't it time for the New York Times to run another 10,000 word essay about how any minute everyone is going to flee the suburbs and flock to the cities, because we all know the quality of life is so low out there in the sticks?
How do these people have any credibility? How do they get away with this? It’s mind boggling that its gotten to a point where the EPA is dictating policy based on what is an obvious fraud, or if you want to be gentle about it, creates enough doubt to back off.
This is looking like another ‘annus horribilis’ for Barack Obama, the ‘hope and change’ president who, on current trajectory, seems destined for failure, with a legacy of declining prosperity at home and dispiriting American weakness abroad.
It's sort of amusing to consider that these are the Riot Police we're watching scurry away like rabbits. One can only imagine what regular old bobbies would do in that situation -- after they wet themselves, I mean.
Lots of websites, this website included, post videos instructing you not to talk to the police. Everyone runs into the street with a video camera, traffic stop and armed robbery alike, trying to catch a YouTube-able Rodney King moment to get their fifteen minutes of Internet fame by proxy. No one has to do that in England, there's a camera everywhere already.
This is what you get when the police know there's nothing but trouble in it for them to protect your homes and businesses, and ultimately, your lives. God help you if you don't sort your recyclables, though.
Back from the Cape, where it's low 60s at night and high 70s during the day. North Atlantic weather. Ocean water low 60s, Cape Cod Bay water low 70s. Harbor water a tad warmer. We find it refreshing. Expect cold rain and fog every few days. Ate lots of Cod and Wellfleet oysters, of course - although Mrs. BD did sin against the Seafood Law with one fat burger with bacon and blue cheese. I declined to turn her in to the food police. We did manage to walk at least 3 hrs/day.
One of these days, I'll do a post about why I love semi-shabby and small-d democratic (also large D, however - Obamaland) Wellfleet so much, as compared to prosperous, well-groomed and preppy Chatham, or Eastham (comfortably rustic once you get off Rte. 6, but lacking a village), or rural Truro (also lacking a village), or any of the fully-developed, suburban-feeling mid-Cape towns. Until I do that, I'll just post my snapshots, as usual, and let them speak for themselves. 70% of Wellfleet is national parkland.
Duck Harbor, Wellfleet, last week, early morning. Dogs allowed, beer and tobacco allowed - but you cannot go without a town beach sticker. No lifeguards, of course: swim at your own risk pretty much everywhere, like the old days.
(Yes, my horizons always tilt to the right. I think it's a Learning Disability, or maybe my politics. So sue me.)
This spring marks the fortieth anniversary of that climacteric of cultural catastrophe, 1968, when for a moment the forces of anarchy and malignant sentimentality seemed poised to overrun the bulwarks of civilization in the West. We are pleased to publish in this issue The Sixties at 40, an important reflection on that critical moment by Peter Collier, who lived through les venements as a participant observer. The spirit of the Sixties, Collier suggests, didn't die, exactly; rather, it's been absorbed as a sort of toxic parody: a fate worse than death as its anarchic brio dissolves into a glutinous mixture of revisionism, political correctness, multicultural cliches, and progressivism.
It gets better:
You cannot step a foot into the literature about the 1960s without being told how creative, idealistic, and loving it was, especially in comparison to the 1950s. In fact, the counterculture of the Sixties represented the triumph of what the art critic Harold Rosenberg famously called the herd of independent minds. Its so-called creativity consisted of continually recirculating a small number of radical cliches; its idealism was little more than irresponsible utopianism; and its crusading for love was largely a blind for hedonistic self-indulgence. What Allan Bloom said in comparing American universities in the 1950s to those of the 1960s can easily be generalized to apply to the culture as a whole: The fifties, Bloom wrote, were one of the great periods of the American university, which had recently benefitted from an enlivening infusion of European talent and were steeped in the general vision of humane education inspired by Kant and Goethe. The Sixties, by contrast,
were the period of dogmatic answers and trivial tracts. Not a single book of lasting importance was produced in or around the movement. It was all Norman O. Brown and Charles Reich. This was when the real conformism hit the universities, when opinions about everything from God to the movies became absolutely predictable.
Knights, Jerusalem, the Seljuk Turks - the history of the Crusades and the future of Islam, by Rubinstein in The New English Review. One quote:
The knights who entered combat against Muslims and pagans did so for Christian objectives. This led to a radical change in Christian thinking about war. Before the Crusades, the Church was ambivalent about killing and wounding in war. St. Augustine helped to formulate the idea of a “just war" by arguing that killing carried out in obedience to divine command or legitimate public authority did not violate the commandment "Thou shalt not kill."[14] Nevertheless, even a “just war” did not receive the Church’s wholehearted approval. A war that the Church promoted and blessed, such as the First Crusade, had been unthinkable.
Pope Gregory VII (1073-85). was the prelate most responsible for the Church’s changed attitude towards war.[15] One of his favorite quotations from Scripture was “Cursed be he who keepeth back his sword from blood.” (Jeremiah 48:10).[16] Gregory proclaimed a new type of Christian soldier-saint.[17] Before Gregory, Saint George and Saint Sebastian had become saints in spite of having been soldiers. As a result of his teachings, men became saints because they had been soldiers. The long-range consequences of this transformation remain with us to this day.
I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time - waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God - it changes me.
Bird Dog is returning from a brief vacation, and asked me to do today’s morning links. I’ve mostly been on a staycation the past month (actually, better than that; wife and sons off in Europe visiting family; P-A-R-T-Y!), so I’ve been spending relatively little time following the news and blogs. If one skips the newspaper for days or weeks, it’s largely true that only the names and the dates change. The stories are much the same. But, current events and developments taken together are some of the most negative for the US that I’ve experienced in my 63-years, about 50 of which I’ve closely followed the happenings. As President Obama’s former chair of his Council of Economic Advisors admits, we're "pretty darn f—ked." -– Met up with a Black guy, Rich, who went through Parris Island same time I did. Both still USMC green, not Black or White. He’s now retired from the Corps. He from poverty in No. Carolina, me from NYC. Agreed that following our grandparents’ rule to be frugal and save, don’t gamble, and keep moving forward is best advice we ever received and what we try to pass on to our children.
...why do women work fewer hours, choose less demanding jobs, and then earn less than men do? The answer is obvious: kids. A number of researchers have found that if you consider only childless women, the wage gap disappears. June O’Neill, an economist who has probably studied wage gaps as much as anyone alive, has found that single, childless women make about 8 percent more than single, childless men do (though the advantage vanishes when you factor in education). Using Census Bureau data of pay levels in 147 of the nation’s 150 largest cities, the research firm Reach Advisors recently showed that single, childless working women under 30 earned 8 percent more than their male counterparts did.
This did apply to me:
It makes no sense to think of either the mommy track or the resulting wage differential as an injustice to women. Less time at work, whether in the form of part-time jobs or fewer full-time hours, is what many women want and what those who can afford it tend to choose. Feminists can object till the Singularity arrives that women are “socialized” to think that they have to be the primary parent. But after decades of feminism and Nordic engineering, the continuing female tropism toward shorter work hours suggests that that view is either false or irrelevant. Even the determined Swedes haven’t been able to get women to stick around the office.
What is worth preserving? 
Since the 1978 
‘Is Marriage for White People?’
Knights, Jerusalem, the Seljuk Turks - the history of the Crusades and the future of Islam, by Rubinstein in