So Much Punditry So Little Time

I had a dream last night and it was vivid...I was riding my moped down a dirt road, the dirt road split right and a detour forced me down another winding dirt road and finally to a sharp left turn under a bridge that I could not make because I was going too fast. Instead, I turned right and came to a dead end...and there was a fenced-in area, old and overgrown with many tortured vehicles. It was an abandoned car storage lot and the vehicles had been overtaken by the weeds and trees, the trees actually had grown around the vehicles and I poked among them in awe at the abandoned treasures with a vague male figure who I can't identify but he identifies the trees as a paper birch, and I remember that it was the leaves and not the bark that he was referring to...the leaves, I reached out and touched one, were exactly like parchment paper but the bark was ordinary oak bending around an old Dodge van...so it wasn't a paper birch tree, which has white flaky papery bark, but I believed him...and then a girl who resembled someone I once loved came out of nowhere with a bag of cocaine that she was snorting right from the bag. She held the bag under my nose and I feebly refused but eventually inhaled the powder, maybe to please her. Then I woke up and I could still hear the rustle of the leaves in my hands and I was disappointed because I had so much to say to that girl but never said it and will never have the chance again.

This side mirror mount (The mirror that broke on the street and I had replaced yesterday) has caused me so much grief recently. This broken end was a hex head that twisted off when I tried to loosen it. But the other end was simply threaded with a nut. So how the hell is it constructed? This end must be so rusted that the bolt broke rather than loosened. Worst of all, the little crimp at the end that holds the bolt in place gave way so now it all merely turns in place and I can't tighten it. I'm so puzzled. Should I replace it or rebuild it or make this work with some plastic cement?

I made a resolution to participate in no more new punditry or even analysis of punditry.* I don't know how long this will last because I've got some opinions on recent events that are like festering pustules of hate trying to get out of me. But I know that it's a futile exercise and not really amusing to investigate cultural trends, opinions, fallacies, spin, media manipulations. I didn't get one death threat from my Conservative thought essay. How many people do I have to insult? Current events are easy fruit to pick for a lazy pundit and I have other projects that demand full focus. Even if I think I'll be exploring a dark corner of the twisted motives of man I also feel everything that can be said about these topics has been said. There is too much evidence to ignore, so whatever crisis we will face springs from our own ignorance. This is my final word on this for now: modern man is child-like and petty and deserves what he gets and will reap what he sows and whatever happens will be blamed on someone else.


*editing old essays doesn't count.

Community Improvement Idea

What cowgirl wouldn't love a decorated deer antler jewelery holder? 

Oggy's latest scheme is to import Reindeer into Guatemala and have the Mayans raise them like cattle, then butcher them (The deer, not the Mayans) like cows...and decorate the antlers for import to boutiques in Aspen so movie stars can have a cool place to hang their rings. I intend to use this deer rack as a hat hanger, but haven't figured out how to mount it to a wall. For now it holds my gypsy rings.

Awesomeness in The Yukon

I knew there was someone more ambitious than me.

"Cud Eastbound" is living in a van heated by wood and surrounded by plastic and straw bales in The Yukon Territory, Land of The Midnight Sun.

Well, there ain't no sun this time of year and you really don't know cold until you get into the -40F area. It carries the penalty of death and you can taste your last breath on your lips. Your pants will freeze and crack if you sweat while wearing them. Your eyelids freeze closed. Cud seems to have a computer in there and he already knows of the moisture from your breath that begins to collect on the outside of the computer when the temps drop. Oh yes. But he can't see the moisture collecting on the circuit board inside the computer. Nor can he see the moisture collecting in the wire trays for the Van's wire harness that will eventually lead to an electrical fire unless he disconnected the battery. I learned all this the hard way; one must seal the heat inside, but that also seals the moisture...and leads to problems. It's very interesting and I'm a little puzzled how he's able to blog about the process from that location but I guess wifi internet is ubiquitous. Great stuff.

Dreaming of 1943

Circumstances have again conspired to hinder this dusty music box project but I will persist. I have the tools and the time but unreliable internet is making it hard to upload anything. 

Dreaming of 1943

This episode features 2 songs from 1943 that don't directly reference WWII but instead use metaphors to soften the message. Both songs have lyrics by Nat Burton...who would die shortly after these songs were released in 1945 at the age of about 44 and music by an era of professional songwriters. (That sound you hear is time's clock slowly ticking off the seconds of your life)

Monday Morning Quarterback

It's awesome to question sports decisions knowing the final outcome. But people miss the point during these monday morning debates. I'm not theorizing on the past, I'm actually talking about the future, using the past as a reference.

The current topic is the Green Bay/Seattle NFC Championship Game. With the score 19-7 at about 5 minutes left, Burnett intercepted a pass that Kearse-15, had go through his hands. 12 points is not insurmountable, but since that was the 4th interception of the day for GB they figured it was the end of the game. GB would run 2 minutes off the clock and then Seattle would throw another interception. Well, this is what happened....