Sabbath Ends too Soon

Here is a weird end to my sabbath. I went over to check on Leah Friedman, who has been recovering from respiratory arrest for some time now. Looks like she continues to improve, and she credits prayer, and I know a lot of my readers prayed for her and left comments. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for her. A lot of fine people read this blog. And you enabled me to do something good with it.

While on her blog, I saw this Matisyahu video.

This guy is a Lubavitcher chassid who sings reggae. Go figure. He calls himself a rapper, but he's doing himself a disservice, because he composes his own music, and he sings. It sounds nothing like rap.

I was very impressed. Because I grew up in Miami, my friends were getting me into reggae back before Reagan, and I've heard a lot of stuff. Jimmy Cliff, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, and so on. And I think this guy beats them all. I wonder if all of his stuff is this good. You can sense the crowd wanting to laugh at him at first, but he bulls his way through and ends up slaying them.

Coincidentally, I read about the Jewish denominations in How Firm a Foundation this week, and Rabbi Eckstein wrote about the chassids. One thing he pointed out, which had not been clear to me before (in spite of knowing a one-time Lubavitcher) was that the chassids are passionate about enjoying life's pleasures and spreading love. So maybe I shouldn't be surprised to hear Lubavitcher reggae.

The sabbath was good. I'm still trying to polish the rough edges off of my sabbath technique, however. I think every week I've learned a little bit more about what Jews go through. This week, I'm learning how it feels for the sabbath to end too soon. I'll bet Jewish readers have been having this feeling since they were born, or since they became observant.

Thinking about observant Jews and dance music, I remember dancing with the rabbis and students at Yeshiva Ohr Somayach, in Jerusalem, in 1984. What a strange night. Maybe the awful beard I had grown gave them the impression that I was Jewish. Who would grow a ratty beard like that if his religion didn't force him? Anyway, I got drawn into a big circle, and a little boy with sidecurls grabbed my leg and made me put him on my shoulders.

Which reminds me of this:

14 But Zion said, The LORD hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.

15 Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

16 Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.

17 Thy children shall make haste; thy destroyers and they that made thee waste shall go forth of thee.

18 Lift up thine eyes round about, and behold: all these gather themselves together, and come to thee. As I live, saith the LORD, thou shalt surely clothe thee with them all, as with an ornament, and bind them on thee, as a bride doeth.

19 For thy waste and thy desolate places, and the land of thy destruction, shall even now be too narrow by reason of the inhabitants, and they that swallowed thee up shall be far away.

20 The children which thou shalt have, after thou hast lost the other, shall say again in thine ears, The place is too strait for me: give place to me that I may dwell.

21 Then shalt thou say in thine heart, Who hath begotten me these, seeing I have lost my children, and am desolate, a captive, and removing to and fro? and who hath brought up these? Behold, I was left alone; these, where had they been?

22 Thus saith the Lord GOD, Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people: and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders.

Okay, it says "daughters," not "sons." I realize that. But men and women were segregated. Cut me a little slack. And Isaiah was talking about Gentiles bringing Jews back to Israel, not dancing on Purim. But now we Gentiles are part of that, too.

Whatever the drawbacks of living in this turbulent era are, it is one of the few times since the Crucifixion when people have had the privilege of seeing that they are mentioned in prophecy. That's really something. If I can see myself and others like me in the book of Isaiah, how hard should it be for me to believe that I am also mentioned in the Book of Life?

We are living in a remarkable time of cooperation and understanding between certain Jews and certain Christians. Some beliefs separate us, but in an unprecedented way, we are in agreement about many things. We agree that the Messiah is coming soon. We agree that the Temple will be rebuilt. We agree that all of the prophecy of the Hebrew Bible is true, and some Jews are even willing to concede that bits of the New Testament are true. Such as the part about Christians being grafted onto the root of Judaism.

When the Messianic Age begins, it won't really matter who was wrong or right, will it? Eventually, everyone will agree on the identity of the Messiah. And there is little for us to fight about in the meantime, as far as I can see. So there is no reason why cooperation should not continue and increase. Jews are more cautious about eschatology than Christians are; nonetheless, eschatology is turning out to be a powerful uniting force. And I think it's becoming easier for Jews to tell the difference between the classes of Christians they can trust and the ones they can't.

I learned one more interesting thing today. In the book of Numbers, God Himself describes the difference between Moses and every other prophet who had lived until his time. He spoke to Moses face to face, but He communicated to prophets in dreams and visions. I didn't realize that. I had always assumed prophets opened their mouths, and God's words came out, and that dreams and visions were fairly useless, because they may mean a lot or nothing at all. So maybe there are a lot of people out there who are prophets, yet don't realize it because they discount the things they've seen. Maybe the fact that something happens to you while you're sleeping or drowsing doesn't mean it has no meaning. That gives me pause, when I think about things that have happened to me.

I'm up too late. Talk to you tomorrow.

Posted by Steve H. at 10:44 PM | Permalink |  

I Didn't

I just realized it's Mothers' Day. Usually, Blue Mountain reminds me. I guess I finally took my grandmother and mother off the reminder list. I did not enjoy having unexpected emails remind me that they were gone.

Let me post something my mother loved. I posted it in 2005, and I'm posting it again. It's from the book of Proverbs, verses 31:10-31.

"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.
She will do him good and no evil all the days of her life.
She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.
She is like the merchants' ship; she bringeth her food from afar.
She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.
She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.
She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.
She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.
She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.
Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.
She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.
She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.
She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.
Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates."

Posted by Steve H. at 3:29 PM | Permalink |  

I Must Learn to Have an Original Thought Once in a While

I have started on the book of Numbers. And I have to say, the title is appropriate. There are some parts of the Bible I just skim. I know I will never remember the names of the tribe leaders and how many people were in each tribe. I admire anyone who can memorize things like that.

I feel the need for a break, so I am perusing my weekly Winn-Dixie ad. As you may recall, Winn-Dixie is the Florida supermarket chain which is NOT funding a lawsuit to make it impossible for people to carry arms in their cars. As far as I know. Wish I could say the same of Publix. I haven't shopped there in quite some time.

I was busy with nonsense on Thursday and Friday, so I neglected to check this week's ad. And it breaks my heart, because skirt steak has been on sale. Oh, the ache.

They're also selling boliche (eye round roast) for $2.99 a pound. This stuff is wonderful, if you do what the Cubans do with it. Open a channel down the middle and stuff it with fat and/or sausage. Brown it and put it in a pressure cooker with various stew ingredients. Give it an hour and a half. It will be excellent. I think you could make it better by adding a beef rib (nearly free) to bulk up the sauce.

Boneless pork roast, $1.99 a pound. Be still, my heart. The things I can do with that.

Rib roast, $5.99 a pound! Oh, yes. Get me some of that. The freezer is already full of aged rib eyes, but I can make room for more.

Lots of good stuff today. I better go grab something that cooks up fast and easy, so as to minimize the impact on my Sunday.

I ate a Cherokee Chocolate tomato and a Dr. Wyche's yellow tomato today. I managed to grow them, although they were small and not pretty. The flavor was magnificent. Much better than the heirlooms you get at stores. People keep telling me hybrids are the way to go. Whatever. I may never know, because I can't grow hybrids, either.

I have a new batch of tomato plants going. We'll see how they do. The Dr. Wyche's tomatoes are considerably better than the Kentucky Beefsteaks I grew, so in the future, I guess I'll just try to grow Dr. Wyche's. That offends my national pride as a person born in Kentucky, but I have to call them as I see them.

Mike tells me his plants grow beautifully INDOORS in NEW HAMPSHIRE with ONE HOUR OF SUNLIGHT PER DAY in TWO-GALLON BUCKETS. I am so mad. I gave him the seeds, so I know I could have done this. It's time for me to try. I should have known better than to trust the people who claimed plants had to have all-day sun. I'm going to put two plants indoors, even if I have to throw out furniture. In here, there will be no bugs and no fungus.

Mike and I are a lot alike. Neither of us does anything the orthodox way. I tried to follow the rules, and I got nothing for it. He did everything wrong and has tons of tomatoes. What was I thinking?

See you at the meat counter.

Posted by Steve H. at 3:22 PM | Permalink |  

Seems That Way

Wow, thank goodness the problems in Myanmar are all fixed. That was fast, huh?

Of course, I am being sarcastic. But it seems like this horrible catastrophe--one of the worst in human history, if the numbers are to be believed--is no longer important enough to attract the attention of the American press. I admit, I don't stare at cable news all day, but I do turn it on a few times every day, and what are people talking about? Obama and gas prices. Am I wrong? That's how it seems to me. And Drudgebart.tv.com hasn't updated the Myanmar situation in a while. Google still has it at the top of their page.

I guess Myanmar is like Afghanistan. Just not sexy. Or maybe part of the problem is that Myanmar's bizarre, evil government is obstructing aid and press coverage. I thought Kathleen Blanco was the only governing official in the universe who would turn down aid during a major disaster, but apparently, I was mistaken. I should have remembered the leftist regime in Ethiopia, which created artificial famine by refusing food to citizens who didn't support the government's politics.

They're saying 100,000 people are probably dead because of Cyclone Nargis. I can't grasp the enormity of that figure. Dead bodies are rotting in the sun or clumping together, bloated, in bodies of water. As they did in Thailand and Indonesia. There aren't enough people to bury them. People are dying of starvation and disease and injuries and exposure. And somehow we have time for American Idol, but not Myanmar. Am I getting a warped picture because I never watch network TV? I can't believe this.

After Hurricane Andrew, Miami was on TV every day for weeks. Disaster tourists were a major problem. When I finally got electricity and television back, I saw them on the news, standing through the open moonroofs of cars and minivans, shooting footage of downed houses. Slowing traffic to a crawl. That was bad, but ignoring a disaster is much worse.

Maybe it's not just a human failing. Maybe it's God's judgment. Myanmar has an official policy of eradicating Christianity, and as I understand it, Myanmar's Jews could all fit in a school bus. Perhaps the lack of press coverage is part of the judgment.

It's peculiar that we are no longer allowed to hypothesize that God punishes nations and cities. It happened in the Bible a number of times. Sodom, Gomorrah, Babylon, Shiloh, Egypt, and even Israel as a whole. How many examples do you need? It's not offensive for a Christian to opine that a disaster may have been related to God's anger. It's common sense. If the God of the Bible exists, persecuting Jews or Christians is a very bad idea. So is afflicting the weak. The Torah said that if Israel didn't observe the sabbath and sabbath years, the land would spew the people out and give itself a sabbath. And that's what the land did. Trying to ban Christianity from an entire nation can't be a wise move.

I think about things like that a lot, in connection with my own failings. It's surprising, the list of things you can do to mess up your life. Things that don't spring to mind immediately when you think about sin. Failing to honor your parents. Failing to help the needy. Failing to support ministries. Harming the Jews. Failing to forgive. It's possible to work hard to be good and still do things that cause you problems. Purely from ignorance. And you may be unaware of proactive things you're required to do.

The other day I was watching an IFCJ video, and Rabbi Eckstein said Jews didn't understand how Christians came up with "the Ten Commandments," since the Torah is loaded with other commandments. True, the tablets from Mt. Sinai only contain ten, but there are many others. The Jews count 613. I don't suggest that Christians should obey every part of the Mosaic law, but you can learn a lot about God's desires by reading the Torah. And you can't say you haven't sinned just because you've obeyed the Ten Commandments. If that were true, things like kidnapping and incest would be okay.

On the one hand, I would not be surprised if the government of Myanmar caused this disaster by persecuting Christians. On the other, it's clear that we have a duty to help, now that it has happened. Shouldn't our journalists be doing all they can to provide coverage and keep our attention focused on the suffering? I believe they should. Maybe they are. We can't expect them to risk doing time in Burmese jails.

I know I'm inconsistent, using the term "Burmese," but I can't stomach "Myanmarese."

If you run over to World Vision's site, you'll see a video about their work in Myanmar. Admittedly, they are not being permitted to do much, but they have been there for decades, and they are probably a good bet if you're looking for a charity that will eventually be able to get something done there. Here's a link.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Posted by Steve H. at 1:08 PM | Permalink |  

Sweet

This is beyond belief. I made about 70 bullets.

I only plan to shoot 51 of the ones I've made so far. The first 10-20 taught me how easy it is to screw up the charge, so I've already taken most of them apart, and I'm going to take the rest apart later.

I finally realized that a person as attention-deficient as I am would need a system pretty badly, so I actually sit there and say "casing, bullet, down, up" every time I crank the handle. That makes it pretty hard to miss a step.

The priming problem was caused by crud in the primer slide. I think. It appears that the hole the primers pop through isn't quite perfectly round, so I may remedy that myself. I also adjusted the rod that determines how far back the primer slide goes. I had a few misfeeds, but things went okay.

I hosed the inside of the feed tube with Hornady One Shot, and I put a piece of a coat hanger on top of the primers to gently make sure they were seated down in the press. Some people leave a brass rod on top of the stack of primers permanently, to push them down the tube.

I mentioned priming primerless rounds earlier. I guess I was having a low blood sugar moment. Two commenters have pointed out that this is not a bright idea, and I agree. When I get a primed case with no charge, I run it through again, but I won't prime a case that has a charge in it.

Powder is all over the place. When a primer fails to feed, powder flies. When I take a bullet apart, powder flies. I guess it's unavoidable.

I truly hope I don't blow up my beautiful SW1911 with a double charge. I can't see how that could happen. I was very careful. Now that I've actually made ammunition, I can see the danger, so I'm definitely going to get a doodad to monitor the charges. I can't weigh the rounds after I make them, because the cases vary in weight. I think the Dillon powder checker is the best bet. It's electronic, so it yells at you when you make a mistake.

Thanks again for all the help.

Posted by Steve H. at 8:50 PM | Permalink |  

No Primers

I am now firmly convinced that the reloading press came with a complimentary curse.

Today I stuck the new pistol rotor on it, adjusted it a few times, and got it to work to within +/- 0.1 grains. I nearly wet myself.

I put the decapping and sizing die back in (it was out because it would have removed the primer from the case I used to weigh charges), and I ran a case through. And the ram got stuck halfway down. What the hell? After adjusting the pawls over and over?

Turns out the pawls may have been okay. The decapping die may have caused my problem. If you fail to knock a primer all the way out, it will obstruct the motion of the shell plate. So it's just like having a hinky pawl. I'm not sure what the story is. I'm fairly certain the shell plate stuck when I had no cases in it, which wouldn't happen if the decapping die was the problem.

Anyway, I somehow managed to ram a casing into the sizing die in a way that the press didn't pull it back down. And guess what? Removing a case from a sizing die without a press to help you is surprisingly hard. I bought some Imperial sizing wax, but I'm not using it yet. It tastes very nice, however.

I got everything going again, adjusted the die, and started making bullets. I thought. When I checked the first two, they had no primers. Everything is working except the priming thing. And I can't find anything in the manual about "Why your new bullets have no primers." That wonderful manual, that the smug reloading mystics said was so complete. I don't see anything in there about primers obstructing the shell plate, either. I guess I'm the first person it ever happened to, in the history of progressive presses.

I used the right punch. I put 25 primers in the tube, facing the right way. The shell plate appears to be indexing correctly over the punch.

Guess I'll figure it out later. I assume it's okay to prime the primerless rounds once I figure it out.

Hope to be shooting on Monday.

Posted by Steve H. at 6:07 PM | Permalink |  

Mr. Articulate One Step Closer to Oval Office

Looks like poor Mrs. Clinton is in trouble for saying white people like her. Oddly, the trouble has not amounted to much. Perhaps that's because, at this point, what happens to her is about as significant as what happens to Chris Dodd.

Someone needs to make a 3 a.m. call. And they need to say "Go back to sleep."

I'm surprised that, as the wife of a black man, Mrs. C hasn't been more popular among black people. It must be that "black man's Kryptonite" thing. White women take all the successful black men. Clarence Thomas. Worf. Okay, I can't think of all that many. But couldn't Hillary have let a sister have the first black President?

Maybe Mrs. C needs to pay a visit to Black People Love Us and find out what she's doing wrong. Maybe blacks are mad at her because she gave up on that cool African-American accent she was working on a while back. I was totally down with that. I was hoping she'd get herself some dreads and start drinking Pepsi.

Where would Pepsi be today without black people? White people only drink it when they have no choice. You know. You get to the picnic late, and there's that warm bottle of Pepsi, rolling around in the melting ice at the bottom of the cooler.

Pepsi and menthol cigarettes. That's what Hillary needs. If she could only learn to scat with a Kool in her hand.

I think the point of Black People Love Us is to help white people understand that no matter how hard we try to become black, we will never quite make it. With one exception. And his luck didn't rub off on his wife.

Like Bill Cosby used to say, "Rat own, rat own."

Not sure how that's relevant to anything.

Busy day today. Marv may manage to blog.

Posted by Steve H. at 11:26 AM | Permalink |  

Bullets!

Annoyed as I am by the documentation that accompanied my Hornady reloading press, I am all about giving credit where credit is due. So let me compliment their customer service, which, like Dillon's, enjoys a sublime reputation.

I bought a bunch of Hornady crap, qualifying me for a huge pile of free bullets. Attention-deficient freak that I am, I screwed up the paperwork qualifying me for the promotion. You're supposed to send the UPC (bar code) label from every product you bought, and I had a whole pile of products. And I managed to leave the UPC code for the biggest item--the press--out of the envelope.

I'm always this way with paperwork. It's the only thing I hated about litigation. Courts are brutally picayune and unreasonable in their requirements regarding the niceties of paperwork. I think this is because they let their clericals, who have never endured the stress of law practice, make the rules. So sometimes you'll find yourself with three or more piles of paperwork, all different. One for the court, one for you, one for the opponent, and God knows what else. And the court may have a long list of very bothersome, unjustifiable rules concerning where to put the staples and what kind of paper to use and so on. And you usually have to Xerox a certificate of service and a final signature for each instrument, and you have to put the original signed versions on one set of documents for the court. But to put them on the other documents, you have to remember to remove the blank ones that came out when you printed everything.

By the end of the day, if you're not ready to blow your brains out, you are a very special person. You are probably a totally uncreative, highly responsible person who always knows where his car keys are. If you're like me, however, you will climb the walls.

So it was a certainty that I would screw up the Hornady order.

I called them after I found the missing UPC stuck between the sheets of a yellow pad. I told them the deal, and they said they had so many orders to deal with, they'd probably ship my whole package back and have me do it over. Okay, not ideal. But acceptable, given the fact that it was my fault.

Today UPS came by. And the poor guy delivering the stuff looked like he was carrying a black hole in a box. I went out on the porch and picked it up. Forty-eight pounds of lead and copper. Hornady gave me every one of the 1400 bullets I applied for. I guess they couldn't bring themselves to make me do the whole thing over again. I may never have to buy .45 ammunition again.

I just opened the box. They're so pretty. It's my understanding that these are not the most wonderful defensive rounds, because people have found that the expansion is not great. But they're FREE.

I also received my pistol rotor and micrometer, a bunch of tiddly little replacement parts, and a very expensive can of Hornady One Shot to degrease things. It will probably be Saturday evening before I can use any of it.

I had a bunch of crap to do today, but I'm taking a breather. Not sure how next week is going to pan out. I may be able to blog a fair amount, and I may not.

While on my break, I watched a DVR'd Tred Barta episode. I am really starting to like this guy. It's embarrassing, but I am. Maybe it's because he shares some of the irritating traits I possess and mistakenly think other people find charming and admirable. He's constantly yammering about his opinions while waving his right fist. "The conservation groups are buying up all the hunting land!" "The liberal press is running down our kids!" "We're just not kicking hippies enough!"

Okay, that last one was mine.

Today he shot a giant moose from fifteen feet with a bow. Luckily for him, it ran in the other direction. Then it wandered into a freezing pond and keeled over. The rest of the show was dedicated to the process of removing half-ton-plus mooses from remote ponds, using a canoe and a chainsaw. It took him and the guide a day and a half. For what? A pile of rapidly aging, unbled moose meat. Can you even eat that stuff?

I felt bad for the moose. I'm pro-hunting and so on, but this animal had an arrow completely through its lungs, and it ran a long way before it fell. I still think that when you hunt for sport, your primary consideration should be a fast, clean kill.

So far, out of all the hunting people I've seen on TV, this is the only guy I think I'd enjoy hunting or fishing with. I guess that's a bad sign. I'd definitely want to part ways with him an hour after the boat docked or the hunt was over, to do Barta detox in preparation for the next day, but I think the fishing or hunting would be a lot of fun.

Guess I'll get back to the grind. After fondling my bullets again.

Posted by Steve H. at 6:11 PM | Permalink |  

SPACE

I had a wonderful day yesterday. I drove up to Delray Beach to see Mike, and we went shooting and took in a movie.

Because of the terrible traffic in Miami, I try not to leave the house between 7 and 9:30 a.m., 12:30 and 1:30 p.m., and 3:30 and 7:30 p.m. They have ridiculous school zones all over the place, crippling the whole city in the morning and when schools let out. And apart from school traffic, the morning and evening rush hours are not to be believed. And lunch hour is no fun, either. Accordingly, I hit the road before the lunchtime rush hour really got going and shot up I-95.

The drive was absolutely glorious. As I progressed into and through Broward County, I felt as though a coating of crust and grime were peeling off of me. Tension melted away. The traffic eased. The buildings grew farther apart. By the time I hit Palm Beach County, I thought I was in heaven. I knew I was sick of Miami, but the full extent didn't hit me until I was out.

I took the second Delray exit and passed through town on the way to Mike's office. What a mistake! I didn't take the bypass, to get around the deadly downtown congestion! This added perhaps 90 seconds to my trip. I got over it.

I drove Mike to lunch and the range. The traffic lights were so far apart, I felt pampered.

The range was okay, but it was dark and very hot. I don't think they air-condition the shooting lanes. I was surprised to at how hard it was to aim in the gloom. Up side: they allow shooters to use interesting targets. Mike and I both chose Osama bin Laden, and we took turns shooting .38 Super and .45 ACP. I didn't do all that great, but I had a fantastic time.

I highly recommend Iron Man. Marvel's movies are hit and miss, as their problems with the Hulk show. But this one was a perfect ten. And one of the things I liked most was seeing Robert Downey, Jr. pull off a major acting coup after all the problems he has had. Talk about a guy who seemed headed for oblivion. It gives you hope for other people with drug problems.

Naturally, there's a big, bad arms manufacturer in the movie. But they had enough sense not to do the traditional attack on the government and the military. I have a feeling the new Hulk movie won't be as kind to the Boogeyman Complex. It's funny; leftists, including entertainers, love Rosie the Riveter, but they hate her employers. I guess it's like supporting the troops while condemning everything they do and accusing them of being illiterate murderers comparable to the Nazis. Maybe we should call Rosie "Rosie the Dupe." Or "Rosie the Warmonger."

I have stuff distracting me today, but you will hear from me when I can take breaks.

Future Politics

Don't wait for the Obama/McCain debate. Read it now, via Moxie!

Posted by Steve H. at 11:22 AM | Permalink |  

And More

I just wanted to post a note thanking all the people who sent me email offering to help with reloading. I haven't answered them all yet, but I will.

I'm off to Delray Beach, to visit Mike the health care entrepreneur.

Before I go, let me point out that the Mercy Corps is now accepting donations to help Myanmar cyclone victims. Here is a link.

Finally: as if Leah Friedman hasn't had enough problems, now her wisdom teeth are giving her headaches, and she's not strong enough to have them removed. Say a prayer. Leave a comment.

Posted by Steve H. at 11:56 AM | Permalink |  

Readers Stolen by Squawking Turncoat

There is a traitor in my midst. I got up today and checked my blog comments, and then I went to The Answer Bird to see if anyone commented on Marv's latest post. The score? Marv 8, me 0.

For this, I fed him for six weeks with a spoon. For this, I let him eat my quilt and climb on my head to give my hair his special brand of conditioner.

How sharper than a serpent's tooth. That's all I have to say. I should get him some Blogads and make him pay for his own toys.

Maynard is his co-conspirator. I know how these things work. They pretend to be at odds, but in private, they share a common goal. Overtake the human's traffic and crush him like Stalin.

Hey, if you love them so much, go read their silly blog. I don't need you. All I need is this ashtray. And this paddle game. And these matches.

Why are you still here? Bird lovers.

In other news, my father's friends have him all excited about the Sebastian area. That's Sebastian, Florida. Where you will find the Sebastian Inlet. Here's an odd thing about the east coast of Florida. It has an ocean. And you would think people would really, really want to be able to run their boats into the ocean. So you would expect a whole bunch of man-made channels through the barrier islands. However, there is a huge stretch between Cape Canaveral and Sebastian Inlet, with no ocean access whatsoever, except for people on the barrier islands. So if you want a waterfront home with an in-water boat, you pretty much have to stay within 10 miles of the Cape or the Inlet. Weird. You would think someone would start building channels, and there would be a real estate boom, because people would want homes with ocean access. But it doesn't look like that's happening. So my father's friends have urged him to home-shop in the area of the Inlet.

I wonder if the greenies are at the root of this situation. They freak out whenever anyone cuts a mangrove tree to build a channel. You would think mangrove trees bore fruit full of diamonds, but in truth, they're useless, except for smoking fish. The greenies managed to get protection for the mangroves by claiming fish reproduced in them. Then we found out the fish reproduce out on the reefs. So now we're stuck with millions of acres of steaming, bug-infested, worthless mangroves. Fish may not breed in them, but mosquitoes and tiny gnats that descend in clouds and cover people in stinging bites sure do.

If the greenies had been around a thousand years ago, humanity would have died out completely, from famine, disease, exposure, and overwork. Just the way people do now, in places where normal human progress hasn't taken place. And that would have made the greenies very happy.

With any luck, we'll shoot up that way soon and see what's what. I had this idea of getting a house in that general region, and then he decided he liked the idea, too, and his budget is bigger, so the plan is to establish a compound.

I'm still trying to figure out why people are willing to pay three times as much for similar properties in Miami. A palace on the water, with a giant boat dock, in a place with better weather, nicer people, and less traffic. OR a comparatively tiny inland house in the rudeness and traffic capital of the universe. Is that a hard choice? I guess one answer is that property appreciates faster here. I don't know if that will be the case in the future. My theory is that the Internet is going to make it unnecessary for people to clump up so much in big cities. If you can work from a nice place instead of Manhattan or Atlanta or whatever, why not do it? Maybe ten years from now, the little communities will be more desirable than the big ones. If you're within an hour of a mall and you have an Internet hookup, you are connected to society. You don't need to be any closer.

When I was a kid, my sister said Miami was unpleasant because it attracted aggressive people. Her theory was that it was highly desirable due to its geographical features, so pushy people would naturally want to live there, just as they want the first five rows at a concert. I think she may have been right.

What else is happening? Drudgebart.tv.com links to a story about implanted Bluetooth devices which can alert medical personnel when people are having heart attacks. That's just stupid. That's not the highest, best use of these things. What you need is a device that senses drops in blood sugar, orders you a pizza, and gives the driver your location. As usual, I have to explain the obvious.

Oh, man. Marv just got two more comments. This bird aggression will not stand, man.

Posted by Steve H. at 11:15 AM | Permalink |