Well, Claire's on the road.

My loss is hopefully the gain of somebody who'll watch out for her. I've always been anxious that way, and would have been much happier about this trip if I could have gone along to take care of stuff. It's gonna be a long couple of days till I know she's safe.

So I'm gonna ask any readers in the western states to stand by. I can only get mobile in a real emergency, and since I'm at one extreme end of the journey it would probably be a great time before I could reach her in any case. I can't give details about the route because I only have the vaguest idea what it is, and couldn't say on a blog in any case. But in case of trouble - there's no reason to expect trouble, but I do worry - I may be yelling for help.

ETA: Well, she didn't get very far today. Car trouble before she even got out of the state. It doesn't sound like anything really bad and though it stranded her and she had to get towed back to the city, at least she didn't get stranded anywhere bad - the worst she suffered was boredom and frustration. The truck's in the shop now, but they won't be able to get to it for a while. Fortunately it's a 7-day shop. Sounds like the sort of trouble you'd get the first time you tried to pull a trailer long-range, which is probably fixable without horrible expense - though the tow already cost her cruelly.

No pearls of wisdom today...

If you follow Claire's blog you know she's leaving the desert and moving back closer to her old home. Well, tomorrow's moving day and today is load-six-tons-of-stuff-in-a-five-ton-trailer day. It's hot, we're getting to the hard part and the afternoon is not likely to go well, as anyone who has ever moved a household full of stuff can surely understand. So I'm releasing myself from blogging duties for the duration. Probably see you tomorra.

The Great Spaghetti Mystery

Out in the boonies, one thing you sort of get used to is having wild critters around. Some of them you work to keep out of your stuff, and some you just pay a tithe not to get more destructive.

Like the Mexican Jays. A lot of people call them bluebirds because they're blue...birds. Actually I guess bluebirds is a pretty good name for them.

Anyway, the bluebirds come in raucous flocks, and they'll steal anything remotely edible. It's almost pointless trying to keep a bird feeder for the finches and the songbirds, because the bluebirds will empty it in an hour. One thing I noticed when I first moved here was that they were constantly raiding the dogs' bowl. They couldn't eat the dog kibble but seemed to recognize it as food, so they'd steal it and hide it. Got to where every box that a bird could conceivably get to was stuffed with old dry dog food.

That behavior started tapering off about a year and a half ago, for no apparent reason. I was relieved because, being deep in my period of penurious solitude, I begrudged them the dog food. But then a new phenomenon began, that nobody's ever been able to explain.

Spaghetti started showing up in the damndest places. Every box, every pipe on the barn shelf, every hole where anybody could ever possibly stuff spaghetti was stuffed with frickin' spaghetti.

And some where nobody could have. I went looking for an ammo can where I kept some spare .45 reloads, my ready-ammo cabinet having been depleted. I opened the can, lifted a cleaning rag and on top of the ammo boxes - spaghetti. I have no idea how it got there.

The weird thing about it is that we're not missing any spaghetti. The only bulk spaghetti we have on the place is sealed in a food bucket. I checked - it's fine. And I never see birds flying around carrying spaghetti.

Some weeks ago M took his old Jeep to the city to get it running. He took the body tub off the frame, and then sent me an email with this photo:



Spaghetti.

This is tragic! Heartbreaking!

I have just learned of the untimely destruction of a priceless 1957 De Havilland DHC-3T, in the wilds of Alaska. Excuse me...I just can't continue right now. Perhaps I can come back later. I'm sorry...

Oh, there were some survivors. You know, people. Other than the famous guy who's not a surviver. Some of the people died, too. But oh, that beautiful seaplane! *choke*

Practice Civility! (Or we'll kill you. In a civil and urbane fashion.)

I'm sure everyone here has followed the stellar career of that great humanitarian and philantropist, former Congressman The Right Civil James Leach, PBUH. For those benighted rubes who are saying at this moment, "Who the hell is Jim Leach, and why should I care?" What the *&^%ing #^** is wrong with you people? Why, such willful disregard for your betters smacks of ... well, of incivility, that's what!

Jim Leach, as all true Americans know, is the man who singlehandedly

...authored legislation on a range of issues including:

* the creation of an international AIDS Trust Fund,
* debt relief for the world’s poorest countries,
* authorization of an International Monetary Fund quota increase,
* making the Peace Corps an independent federal agency,
* requiring the federal government to use soy ink,
* prohibiting Internet gambling,
* restraining federal employee growth, and
* redressing certain Holocaust asset losses.

And now this great man has unselfishly taken the reins of the National Endowment for the Humanities, that mighty institution which has brought such blessings to us all.

Of late Mr Leach has embarked upon a tour of all fifty states, bringing us in person the benefit of his wisdom and fortitude and ... well, just his gosh-darn civility, that's what.

More than 40 years ago Congress established the National Endowment for the Humanities to address the "the relevance of the humanities to the current conditions of national life." As the head of this unique federal agency, I have embarked on a 50 state civility tour that will bring me to Colorado this week under the auspices of Colorado Humanities. Colorado Humanities has developed a series of public programs laying out how history and literature provide perspective to issues of the day.

One such issue is the fact that civility in our society is breaking down. Citizens are increasingly losing confidence in the institutions of our nation, particularly government, and are becoming disrespectful of their leaders, other faith systems and each other.

Public figures have been spat upon and subjected to racial and homophobic slurs. Men and women who have spoken up about proposals such as health care or economic stimulus packages have been labeled "fascist" or "communist," sometimes at the same time. And words like "secession" and "nullification" have crept into the public dialogue.

I don't know anything about the first accusation, except those instances where it has turned out to be a lie. As to the second, I am frankly in awe of of an administration capable of enacting policies that manage to be both fascist and communist at the same time - though anyone who has read a book knows there isn't much difference between the two at any time. As for the third, speaking strictly for myself (anything else would be uncivil) I'd like to see more use of those words in the public dialogue. I'd like to see some action on them.

I'm now curious about the NEH, this "unique federal agency." I wonder - is it unique in that it doesn't field its own SWAT teams yet? Because a federal agency really can't be sure of civility in its peasants without paramilitary force.

H/T to WRSA

In the annals of bizarre sentences...

...These two, put together, have got to take the cake.

Four cops - one in uniform, several in plainclothes with badges displayed - who were approaching the fight from several directions responded with a volley of 46 shots, likely killing one of the fighters, wounding the second 21 times and striking three civilians and two officers.

Pending the outcome of investigations by the NYPD and the Manhattan district attorney's office, the cops are not to be second-guessed.

I'm sure it's fine. The officers no doubt acted in accord with Department Procedures. Or...something.



I wonder if they learned that "circular firing squad" tactic at the Academy? Oh - wait. That would be second-guessing them, wouldn't it? Sorry. To Serve And Protect, Baby!

H/T to Codrea.

But it's all right, Momma...

Our masters still have fuel for their custom 747s, so I feel alright.

No, you can't have a ride. But our masters' thugs will be happy to give you some souvenir bullets if you try. You paid for them, too...

"So only $1.5 trillion?"

Here in this CNN article they're crying out for something called a "smart grid" nationwide, in the apparent hope of moving forward the day when we can all not only be equally squalid but equally in the dark. Not one mention in 1500 words of the possibility of, I don't know, maybe building a power plant or two. I know, that's crazy talk. Instead:

Some of the most reliable utilities are in the heartland states of Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri, the Dakotas, Nebraska and Kansas.

In those states, the power is out an average of only 92 minutes per year, according to a 2008 Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory study. On the other end of the spectrum, utilities in New York Pennsylvania and New Jersey averaged 214 minutes of total interruptions each year. These figures don't include power outages blamed on tornadoes or other disasters.

So let's not increase the supply, let's spend gigabucks spreading the (no trans-fats!) margarine a little thinner on the Wonder Bread.

Here in my little patch of nowhere the countryside is dotted with powerplants, more-or-less one per town. On cool mornings I can see steam plumes from at least three on the horizon. It's good to decentralize, I suppose, because the one that serves the small town nearest me is famously falling to pieces. A few years ago a couple of local guys were nearly squashed when a major portion fell off. It's the biggest employer in town, the tail sort of wagging the dog, and considering how much effort the utility company that owns it spends just keeping the poor ancient thing running it's hard to believe they're really making any money on it. They can't build any new ones, of course. These are coal-fired, grandfathered in under weighty layers of regulation, and the cost of new ones - shudder.

Connect that to a national "smart grid," so New York and Jersey City can last a few more weeks? I wouldn't be looking at steam plumes, I'd be watching smoke columns as the poor things burned themselves down.

As far as I can tell, letting the great national infrastructure built by earlier generations just fall into the dust till we're all reading the Prophetess Ayn Rand by tallow lamps is the plan. Maybe Utopia will only come when nobody can still read.

It's gonna be really ironic if I'm the only one left with a functioning toaster within my lifetime...

A Cellphone Too Far...

Cops Love iPhone Data Trail

Detective Josh Fazio of the Will County Sheriff's Department loves it when an iPhone turns up as evidence in a criminal case.

The sophisticated cell phone and mobile computer is becoming as popular with police as it is with consumers because it can provide investigators with so much information that can help in solving crimes.

"When someone tells me they have an iPhone in a case, I say, 'Yeah!' I can do tons with an iPhone," said Fazio, who works in the sheriff's department high-tech crimes unit.

The iPhones generally store more data than other high-end phones -- and investigators such as Fazio frequently can tap in to that information for evidence.

And while some phone users routinely delete information from their devices, that step is seldom as final as it seems.

"When you hit the delete button, it's never really deleted," Fazio said.

H/T to Unc.

ETA: Y'know, I was just thinking about this the other day. When I was young, this was a telephone:Yeah, the handset made a dandy blunt instrument - and was frequently in the news as such. Now I've got a flippy little box that looks like Captain Kirk's communicator, and though it often annoys me it's really pretty cool that I can be out in a shitfield a mile from anything and still in touch with my friends - if I ever remembered to put the damned thing in my pocket.
,
Security on the old phones really sucked - the phone company knew everything about you, made no secret of it, and cheerfully gave the information to the cops on demand. In addition to being incredibly easy to tap, well into the early seventies Ma Bell acted like connecting four wires was akin to particle physics and forbade you to connect an extension yourself. And the phones were wired so that they could tell everything about your new phone but the color. A phone guy once demonstrated this to my very embarrassed older brother, in my amused presence.

So while we love to hate the new surveillance culture, in a lot of ways nothing has really changed. I don't assume that even my cheapy pay-as-you-go phone gives me any real anonymity, since no matter what surveillance gear my phone may or may not carry it's still plugged into the cellular network. Never conduct sensitive business over any phone.

Warning: Drinking alcohol reduces situational awareness.

H/T to Sipsey Street.

Happy!

All weekend I've been going, "I just need two more hours!" But we got a lot done on Landlady's wiring on Saturday, and yesterday I got rained out good. (You don't want to be down near the wash when it's raining hard unless you're comfortable with the notion of sleeping there. I really need to do something about a bed now.)

But this morning after shit-shoveling I went to the Lair and finished all the paneling on the main-floor walls! Yay!

(trim, cleaning and grouting tiles, tiny little things that need more work and other finicky bits not included, available at extra cost.)

So here's a quick tour. How long could it take? It's one room!

This is what it looks like coming through the door.

That's the loft, from where the wood stove will be.

The exit, of course, from about where the kitchen counter will be.

My boooootiful tile job,

And the bathroom door.

There! That didn't take long, did it?

Storing flour? Store a lot.

Says here wheat prices are going through the roof, due to international pressure on various export markets. That's bad news if you eat a lot of bread, like I do.

A fifty-pound sack of ground flour may seem like a lot. Hell, fifty pounds of salt or sugar is probably a lifetime supply for a middle-aged individual, because you use salt and sugar by the spoonful. You use flour by the cup, and it goes fast.

Take a look: a supermarket five-pound bag of flour will produce about four small loaves of bread. If you eat bread like I do, a loaf of bread lasts about half a week. That's five pounds every two weeks. That's living alone, mind you. Double it for a second person, double it again for two more, etc. Of course that assumes you're only using it for bread, which nobody does. Biscuits, pancakes, crackers, bagels ... the wonders of flour just never stop, including how fast it dwindles away.

But anyway that makes it simple to calculate how much bread a fifty-pound sack will produce, if you only use it for bread. Living alone, when I don't make biscuits, etc., that sack lasts me about twenty weeks, or five months. For a family of four, it'll last five weeks. Also known as not enough.

You need to protect it from damp as well as from vermin. Though in my experience flour is not very attractive to rats, they will eat it. What they don't eat, they'll shit all over. Bugs are less picky. And it's terribly vulnerable to mold, so that big sack you were putting your trust in can suddenly, while your back is turned, become a big sack of inedible glop. It's a very bad idea to just flop a couple of sacks on a pantry shelf and think you're golden. Trust me on this.

Twenty-five pounds of flour neatly fills a six-gallon food-quality bucket, so you need two to hold the contents of that one big sack. Those cool spin-on lids are very handy, at least for your working supply. If the buckets aren't forthcoming, at a minimum get yourself some of those big plastic tubs with snap-on lids. They're surprisingly good at keeping water out, though I don't guarantee them against persistent moisture. Rats certainly can chew through them, but I've been using them here for years and so far they never have. Of course tomorrow's another day; don't take that as a guarantee.

Just sayin'.

Had a bit of excitement today...

Landlady and M came in last night, right on schedule. This morning after breakfast they did some work on Landlady's house, while I went to work on the Lair. M came down and wanted to go to town for plumbing parts, and I tagged along, putting the dogs in their respective places first.

When we got back I had a ciggie, released the hounds, and went down the ridge to Landlady's house. No sooner were we in the meadow than Claire's dogs and Little Bear got very excited about what was under a pile of OSB scrap that Landlady had used to roof over the generator when it rained last weekend. The dogs didn't act like they were hunting a rat, they acted like there was an enemy under there. They cheerfully obeyed me when I ordered them away. Then I picked up one sheet of OSB...

Did you see that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the one with the snakes? This wasn't quite that bad. But I saw a good-sized Mojave Green coiled and rattling at me along with a second, smaller snake, and dropped the board right back down again. I yelled at the house, "Who's got a gun?" Turned out I was the only one there with a gun, but I wasn't too thrilled about going after the snakes with OSB in one hand and a pistol in the other, when I didn't know where under the OSB that big Green had gotten himself to. So I handed my 1911 to M, leaned over, and picked up the board.

Last spring I had an embarrassing incident involving a rattlesnake and a pistol. Since then I haven't been very confident about my ability to kill squirmy things with a .45, and M always was a better shot than me anyway. Yeah, he missed twice and the third, a solid hit, didn't seem to impress the Green very much. He handed me the 1911 and I didn't do much better, getting what should have been but wasn't a solid kill-shot on the second bang. Landlady came over with a shovel - I cut the damned thing's head off and it was still looking for something to bite, though its mobility was now seriously impaired.

That still left the second snake, at a minimum. I moved another board and found it, much smaller and a different species. M had run up the ridge and came back with a 12-gauge which, though a few minutes ago I would have considered it overkill for such a small snake, now seemed maybe barely enough. He blasted the thing and all we could find at the bottom of the impact crater was a minor portion. We finally found another chunk hanging from a branch of the cherry tree, and never did find the head.

So! Lessons learned: A .45 is not a particularly impressive fight-stopper with a rattlesnake. A shotgun is messy and perhaps excessively effective. A shovel works just fine.



Private to M's Mom: This story is complete fiction, I just made it up. Really. M did not ask me to say that.

Evening culinary bleg...

Does anybody know anything about small pressure cookers? Like, does somebody make one less than four quarts, not made of aluminum, and withing a poor old hermit's means? I've spent some time researching them, and am getting confused. At this altitude, it does seem to be the only way I'm ever going to get a decent pot of beans, but I don't know what to get or whether I could afford one I want.

Advice gratefully accepted.

Ah, the song in my head...

...I do hope it's not an indication of how the day's going to go.

This just in from Minas Morgul...

The newest Nazgul, Elena Kagan, has just been confirmed.

Upon receiving the news, Ms. Kagan said ... well, she hasn't actually said anything since her nomination, has she?

So excellent news, as the government of our evil overlords maintains unbroken continuity! You are commanded to rejoice.

Public ridicule? I'm so IN!

I understand why, in the narcissism-drenched, P.R.-scented corridors of the Jaye Edgar Hoover Building, where everyone looks like Scully and Mulder and acts better than Jodie Foster and Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. put together, it would be automatically assumed that the only reason somebody would display the sacred seal would be to pass themselves off as a member of the sacred band.

Tam's post didn't make it entirely clear to me why we were ridiculing the FBI, but who needs a reason? With just a bit more linkyclicky I learned that there actually is one:

(CNN) -- The U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation has threatened Wikipedia with legal action if the online encyclopedia doesn't remove the FBI's seal from its site.

The seal is featured in an encyclopedia entry about the FBI.

Wikipedia isn't backing down, however. The online encyclopedia -- which is run by a nonprofit group and is edited by the public -- sent a chiding letter to the FBI, explaining why, in its view, the FBI is off its legal rocker.

"In short, then, we are compelled as a matter of law and principle to deny your demand for removal of the FBI Seal from Wikipedia and Wikimedia Commons," the Wikimedia Foundation's general counsel, Mike Godwin, wrote in a letter to

So I'm just here sippin' coffee and spreadin' that ol' meme in my tiny way. Let the Steisand Effect go nuts here! FBI seals everywhere!

They...they LIED? I'm so disillusioned!

Yup. It's shocking, I know.

You know those whole-body airport scanners that could never, ever store the image of your naked bod, no matter how sweetly you asked? Well, they've been storing images left and right.

She's such a kidder...

It's all fixed now. Congress is all cleaned up.

“Drain the swamp we did, because this was a terrible place,” she said. “We have made a tremendous difference and I take great pride in that.”

Resume your unquestioning faith in your government, citizens! All is well!

First Tile Job Ever!

Late last week we went to a town about fifty miles away with the trailer, and I bought everything I needed to do the wall behind the wood stove in The Secret Lair.

This was a bit of a nail-biter for me because that part of the wall is tiled, I've never stuck down a tile in my life, and arguably you shouldn't start learning on a vertical wall. But you do what you gotta do.


Claire, bless her heart, got me started with the first couple of rows on the short wall to keep me from committing the more obvious oopsies. And at the end of about three hours:


There it is! I originally did something artsy and had three courses of cedar siding below the tile, but Claire talked me out of that as inconsistent with a fear of fire. After re-thinking I decided fear of fire was more important than art after all, so I pulled off the siding and replaced it with more cement board. So the siding will go above and beside the tile, but not below it.


The little cabin gets very easily cluttered up, so it's a bit hard to see perspective here. But that's the bathroom getting walled in, and I think the terra cotta tiles are going to go really well with the cedar siding. The grout will be the same color as the tiles. Happy!