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.
When you sit in the blind awaiting the flight Of the white-breasted northern sprig, While they circle high and think to light, And they look so close and big, You whisper your pard, as you both crouch low, Now! Don't wait too long! You shoot too far and off they go; Whatever you do is wrong!
Then you curse yourself for a fool greenhorn, Your pride has had a blow; Sullen you sit and smoke and mourn, When in comes a bunch, fair low! You watch them circle round and round, Just let them work along! When off they swing, southward bound; Whatever you do is wrong!
And so, through life, a poor wretch tries To do what he thinks is right, To place his funds so that when he dies His family'll be sitting tight; To raise the young with the best in mind, And sometimes it works like a song, But often he finds like the man in the blind, Whatever you do is wrong!
Still, I think that the God who sits in His sky, And watches each man in his blind, When it comes time for the hunter to die, Surely, He'll keep in mind That each tried to do what it seemed he ought, And He'll put us where we belong; For He'll understand the fellow that thought Whatever he did was wrong!
"[M]y duty as a songwriter is not to try to save the world, but rather to save the soul of the world. This requires me to live my life on the other side of truth, beyond conviction and within uncertainty, where things make less sense, absurdity is a virtue and art rages and burns; where dogma is anathema, discourse is essential, doubt is an energy, magical thinking is not a crime and where possibility and potentiality rule."
Tautog is a popular fish for recreational fishers - not really a sporty fish but a dining fish. It's no surprise that they are tasty because they live on molluscs and crustaceans. These guys (they are a Wrasse) live mainly from Cape Cod to Chesapeake Bay.
There's a limited keeping season for them: April, and then mid-Oct to mid November.
They are bottom-feeders, partial to rocky bottoms, underwater structure. Green crabs and clams are the best bait.
Tautog (Tautoga onitis), also known as blackfish, have a lifestyle that promotes a long life: they eat crabs and shellfish, sleep all winter, and in the summer they rest every night and have sex every day.
Not a bad life. In youth, I would catch a few off the wreck outside Wellfleet Harbor. The one in the photo is huge, probably should be tossed back to breed but you can tell from that gal's face that she wants to eat it.
I am certain I was the oldest guy in our morning Athletic Conditioning class early this morning. Somebody has to be eldest but I am not elderly. Anyway, we did it in the parking lot, 36 guys and gals of all ages and all levels of fitness. At this point, I keep up with most of the gals but not all the guys, many of whom can sprint past me, especially the high school kids. That sucks for me but I have determination.
The thing is that everybody sort-of bonds in these classes in their efforts, like boot camp. Everybody makes it fun and cheers on each other, even the laggards.
I had two thoughts about today's exercise party. First, calisthenic-type exercise is much more fun in groups. Everybody works harder, not competitively but inspirationally. Second, avoiding groups and social isolation truly do make people insane in a way by providing no societal reality testing. Or maybe people isolate to protect their personal insanity from outside reality checks. You have to learn where you stand, and how you connect. That thought was from one of Peterson's sentences, but I saw that even something like an exercise class is a social and socially-correcting event.
Actor/impressionist Jim Meskimen (Parks & Recreation, Whose Line?, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel) recites "Pity the Poor Impressionist" poem in 20 celebrity voices, with the help of SHAM00K.
"[S]ingling out Trump for the turmoil engulfing the country is possible only if you disregard the No. 1 contributor: the refusal of Democrats and most of the media to accept the results of the 2016 election...."
In North America, Beech is the most dense and heavy wood second only to Ironwood (which is a slender tree). Up here, Beech, Oak, Hickory and Maple tend to be climax hardwood forest. Beech will wear out saw blades fast. Wildlife love the beechnuts. White Beech is native, but Copper Beech is not, and is vulnerable to the evil fungus.
With the help of my hearty and cheerful Colombian friends, and a 22-ton splitter, we produced around 3 cords of beech firewood in a nice cool rain. Not splittable by hand - that wood is like iron and the knots are like steel. The unsplit logs have been seasoned since March, so they are quite dry. That dense hardwood will burn forever. Priceless, and smells good too. Sorry that monster tree had to go, but it had the fatal fungus and the falling branches could kill somebody. Around 3 cords I think - that's a double row.
I plan to plant a Pin Oak next to where the Copper Beech was. Nice trees, lots of acorns. Reminds me of the old axiom "When's the best time to plant a tree?" Ans: "20 years ago." Realistically, best time to plant a tree is fall. It will get a good head start in spring before the weather warms.
Ready to go as soon as my chimney sweep shows up to clean out the flues. We luckily have 3 fireplaces in our cottage. Homey, cozy, New Englandy is what we like here. Wish we had a wood stove in the kitchen, but I'm planning for a stone firepit out back so outdoors and s'mores can be year-round.
Happened to me last week. Food poisoning, 2 days of vomiting and lots of fruitless retching resulting in some sort of scratch or something on my lower esophagus (my diagnosis). Could not eat - or barely swallow Gatorade. Bad pain, to make you bend over, grimace, and utter bad words.
Luckily for her, Mrs. BD was in wonderful Milwaukee having a fun time with pals so did not have to participate, help, or be inconvenienced by my misery. Seems like a cool town. I got a Harley sweatshirt out of it.
Was able to handle some soup on Sunday, so got back to gym on Monday having lost 6 lbs. Still little appetite, but that's sort of normal for me because I love tasty food but only in small volume. It takes very little nourishment to keep me in good shape despite daily workouts.
My point is that a week+ illness can measurably set back your strength and fitness in a way that a 10-day gym-free active vacation can't. This week I have been worse with everything - weights, cardio, calis, endurance. It could take me 3 weeks to get back to where I was. Slowly.
Imagine the effect of a year without challenging exercise. Terrible, soft, lazy. Nobody wants that.
I bitched to my genius trainer that it's a damn shame that fitness doesn't just ratchet up - and stay there. He said "We're biological, not mechanical." Duh. I know our bodies are coded to self-destruct after age 35 or 40. I thought that if it all ratcheted up, we gym rats would all look like the Incredible Hulk. We'd be amazing specimens.
There is No Middle Ground with Today’s Democrats or the Deep State - If you’re wondering how all of this stops, how we return to normal, I will tell you what a friend told me: “There is no normal. There is only Clausewitz.”
We had just 50 troops there, and Turkey is a NATO ally. Remember, Kurds and Turks have been at war for 400 years...The ME is insane, quagmire. No US interests there, and Israel is self-sufficient.
If the general mood of the public is that opponents of President Trump never granted him the the full respect for the office that he was due, and set out to destroy his presidency from day one, they will quickly tire of the spectacle of members of Congress in even higher dudgeon than usual. But the public could also conclude that the Trump administration simply ignores laws they find inconvenient, and defies lawful requests for documents and testimony from elected officials they don’t like. This might be exactly the sort of contrast that the Democratic nominee wants as a backdrop to the 2020 election.
Bruce didn't do a post for Yom Kippur (at least, not yet), but it's the holiest day of the Jewish calendar as I understand it. Often, I wish we Christians had held onto those High Holy Days.
VDH: The Madness of Progressive Projection - The only Trump “crime” was in his winning an election he was not supposed to win. So after the election, prior illegal acts were redefined as legal, and legal ones as illegal.
Intel Community IG Stonewalling Congress On Backdated Whistleblower Rule Changes - Michael Atkinson, the inspector general for U.S. intelligence agencies, acknowledged that his office secretly changed key whistleblower forms and rules in September, but refused to explain to lawmakers why those changes were backdated to August.