Hope and Change, Pt. 2

Continued from here.

This won't be a blinding flash of insight to a Freedomista, but the rest of humanity doesn't seem to get it: Governments Don't Create Anything.

They don't create wealth. They don't create jobs. They don't create safety, or security, or freedom, or liberty or truth or justice and if what this government has been creating lately is the American way you can keep my share.

Governments don't create anything. All they can do is take. Everything they hand out with one hand they took from someone with the other because governments can't create wealth. It's no wonder so many politicians really seem to believe wealth is a zero-sum equation because for them it is. The only thing politicians have to give away is what they've taken by force or threat of force. Our new philosopher-king has been making an endless array of absolutely incredible promises of all the things he's going to give us. Never mind if a word of it is true, assume for a moment that it all is: Where's it all coming from? The man's never held a productive job in his life: Does anybody think all this largess is coming from his pocket? Oh, hell no. 'The rich will pay their fair share.' We could parse this chilling sentence all day long, but many do and I'm trying to keep it short and I'm more interested in a question that doesn't get beaten to death: Pay whom? For what?

If we were truly talking about wealth redistribution here, then Warren Buffett et al would be forced at gunpoint to write checks to poor families all across the nation. That would also be theft, which is immoral, but what's really happening is even worse. That would actually do a little short-term good, and the victims would be limited in number and well defined. But wealth redistribution is not what's happening; that's just the mask for what's happening.

When the government takes money out of your pocket and out of the economy in general, through all its multifarious means, where does that money go? Some, of course, goes to state and federal programs that keep the flock quiet and give the impression that the various forms of government are really essential. That's absolutely necessary, of course, because governments have been brought down before this with torches and pitchforks and our masters know it. I doubt there's a person in Washington DC or any state capitol who holds Louis XVI or Benito Mussolini or Nicolae Ceauşescu as role models, simply because of the way they ended up. If history teaches anything, it's that a ruler can't let the Misery Index climb too high, or all the armed guards in the world won't protect him. At some point in that index it becomes clear to the meanest intelligence who's really been spreading the misery. So yeah, some of it goes to goodies for the masses. Considering all the promises, and all the people the promises have been made to, I'm sure it's not a small sum.

But it's nowhere near the total. Where does the rest of it go? What's it all for?

To Be Continued...

Hope and Change

Well...Not so fast. Maybe something can.

What if millions of people said, "Screw you guys, I'm going home"?

Okay, "millions" is grandiose. Too much to hope for. What if hundreds of thousands did? What if a whole bunch of people became more interested in how their chickens were doing than what-all the Obamanation was up to? What if a sizable percentage of those people who wish they could tune out, actually did so?

Ridiculous, I know. Yeah, it's a really stupid thought. Except, maybe not. I keep coming back to those trillions. It's a wonderful word, trillion. Kinda rolls off the tongue. And when the foreign governments who've been buying this government's debt all these years get the notion that maybe it wasn't such a great investment after all, when the reserve currency of the world stops being the Dollar and becomes the Euro or the Ruble or the Dirham or the Yuan; when the value behind all those newly-minted trillions isn't even the hopes and prayers of foreign investers, but nothing - where's the change gonna come from then?

This is supposed to be a really terrifying thought. And if your whole life is invested in this political and economic system, I suppose it should be. Hey, if the system goes down you're going with it. Too late to worry then. The foolish little men on top will do anything, anything, whatever it takes to keep themselves afloat - to keep themselves in positions where they can feel powerful. And they're going to do it to you. You're the only real resource they have. They will milk you like Bossy the Cow. And do you know what happens to Bossy when the milk dries out and knocking her up doesn't get it running again? Can you say "Cheeseburger"?

To be continued...

Oh, what a beautiful morning...

Sun, sun, sun. Not a cloud in the sky. Temperature down to a little over 10 degrees and ice on all the windows, but that's okay; it'll warm up fast now. I'm gonna get back on those 2X12s and see how many I can knock out. I can dream that the wind will behave itself.

It got so cold last night even Fritz wanted under the covers with me, a physical impossibility. He and Ghost couldn't figure out just what they wanted, but it sure wasn't sleep; at 2:30 they started agitating to go outside and we had a little argument which, I'm ashamed to say, they eventually won. They've got more staying power than I do but that doesn't make them unusual; it's always been a problem. I finally just wanted to get it over so I could go back to sleep, but by the time they came back in I was so pissed I couldn't. Grr.

Oh, whatever; it's still a gorgeous day. The generator was due in town yesterday but never made it; I've got a ride lined up to get it but need to confirm its presence first. I've been putting off buying propane, expecting to go to town for the generator last week, and now I'm on short rations but there's enough to squeak by.

On the subject of dogs - I don't know if this is a common trait with old dogs, but Magnus' ability to sleep through anything, for incredible lengths of time, is just eerie to me. He sleeps so deeply I keep checking to see if he's still breathing. By the time he stirred this morning (While I was slicing bread for my breakfast; that will get him up) I calculated that he hadn't moved but once in over fifteen hours. That one time was when I got him to move over so Fritz could share the bed, and as usual it was a fight; he really, really doesn't like to be disturbed once he's comfortable and sleeping.

While I was typing the above paragraph I heard him barking outside the scriptorium. None of the other dogs were alerted to anything, so I went outside to see what his problem was. He was upset because some jays were stealing dog food out of the bowl, which they do constantly. Food is pretty much the only thing he gets excited about these days. Well, we all need our passions. :-)

Just when I was relaxing...

...winter showed up again.

Woke up this morning to snow and heavy clouds as well as the wind that's been howling for the past two days. Bummer.

Usually I don't have any problem staying here alone, with the dogs for company. But sometimes for no reason I get cabin fever really bad. Poor Ghost wanted to go for his walk in the worst way, but I just wasn't in the mood to freeze my ass in the wind and he was really getting under my skin about it. At last I gave them all a treat and locked them in Gitmo so I could go visit some neighbors, just for a change of scene. Of course they were out tending their animals and it was just as freeking cold there, so I may as well have done my duty by the dogs. Hopefully it'll warm up marginally before long because while the big boys don't really mind giving it a miss, Ghost is reproaching me something terrible. I've asked him if he'd like a shovel to help him pile on the guilt; he seems fine using his resources, though.

Bush's Farewell Song

I don't care who you are or what your politics are, this is funny right here!

Oh, Bother!

We took our walk early today; I wanted to get it out of the way and get to chores. But it was such a beautiful morning that, when we reached the point on the nearby ridge where we normally turn right and work our way home, I decided to keep going toward the next loop in the wash.

In a meadow on the other side of the ridge Ghost found a couple of peacefully grazing cattle and decided that just wouldn't do, so he went charging down the hill toward them. The dynamics of this maneuver have changed a bit over the past year, and I'm afraid Ghost's tactics haven't caught up with them. Used to be he could count on the whole pack charging after him, but the other younger dog got placed with another family and Fritz and Magnus have gotten to the age where it just doesn't seem like a lot of fun anymore. So we're always faced with the sad spectacle of Ghost barking furiously at a bunch of cattle who are clearly torn between the options of kicking him in the head or ignoring him completely, but who don't seem terribly tempted to run away in panic. Ghost isn't a small dog by any means, but neither is he intimidatingly large to something as massive as a full-grown bovine. Sometimes, to get it done right, you just need the whole pack. Ah, well - by the time we caught up with him, Ghost just looked disgusted and stalked off after us as we turned into the wash.

I always forget how long and winding this branch of the wash is, so it's always more of a walk than I anticipated. No sooner did it begin to look like this was going to be an appallingly long slog but the wind came up again, still cold, and my pleasant walk started to become an ordeal. Not what I'd had in mind. So we walked until the cliffs became a slope, and climbed back up the ridge. With our backs to the wind and firmer ground under us, things were much more pleasant. We finally made it back home and collapsed in a heap.

The original objective was to tire out the dogs so I could work in the yard without having to endure their complaints that I was ignoring them, and I sure accomplished that. Trouble is, now all I want to do is take a nap. And of course the wind is howling outside the scriptorium, and spending a few hours outside is not as attractive a prospect as it was earlier.

Tough shit, Joel. Duty calls.

Weird Weather

Virtually everywhere I've lived (except Southern California, where there's an entirely different joke) people told the same tired joke: If you don't like the weather in (fill in the state), just wait a minute. Usually it isn't all that true.

Yesterday, around here, it was totally true. Went to bed Saturday night to clouds and gloom, expecting it to not get very cold. Woke to clear skies and thick frost; I was still shivering in my coat at 9 AM. By 10 the sun had the temperature in the high fifties and I was shedding layers as fast as I could peel them off. Then around two in the afternoon (right after I lit a trash fire, of course) the wind came up harder than it's blown in months. The temperature held for a while, but then crashed before sundown and once again I was shivering in my bed. Sheesh.

Got a lot of work done while it was nice, though. I'm a little less than a third of the way through that big stack of 2X12s and making progress. So a good day, all in all. Here's hoping today's as good because my landlady's due and a lot of little things I wanted to get done are scattered around half-done. The weather, while springtime weird, is still cooperating more than it was a few weeks ago and I need to get more organized. As soon as I do, I'll get a foot of snow.

Yes, I'm blaming it on the weather. Otherwise, what's it for?

Oh, that Socal joke, yeah. 'Southern California doesn't really have weather, as such; just the occasional natural disaster.' Well, I didn't promise it was funny...

Quote of the MONTH

"In the Heller decision, the majority of the justices ruled that you have an individual right to have your individual right infringed. The minority decided you have a collective right to have your right infringed.

Outstanding jurisprudence. Just outstanding. 4 traitors and 5 morons."

- Anonymous

More on the "I Pledge" Video...

From the estimable Karen De Coster:

After several emails from people regarding this post, I watched the Hollywood "I Pledge" video again, and it was even more chilling the 2nd time around. Some spots were especially eerie.

- One guy says, "I pledge to represent my country with pride, dignity, and honesty." [You mean like the power brokers and politicians do?]

- At 1:21: "I pledge allegiance to the funk, the united funk of funkadelica." [The intelligence displayed by this 85-IQ, tattooed animal has overwhelmed me.]

- 2:09: The pledge is to use less plastic by using less bottled water. [To the people who live in Malibu - surely you jest???]

- 2:12: To plant more trees (and explain why?], be more green [can we define that?], and use less plastic bags from the grocery store.

- 2:20: Perhaps the best one of all is "to consume less." [Do we really want to compare the consumption of wealthy, Hollywood celebrities to the middle class?]

- 2:24: "Flush only after a deuce, never a single." [Imagine people who worry about other peoples' shit habits.]

- At 1:52 point: [We are told to meet strangers, find out their names, give them a smile, and ask how we can be of service to them. Well, I know plenty of unemployed Detroiters who could use assistance from a wealthy celebrity; oops, the promo is mere pc, fuzzy-and-warm, and, of course, there's only an empty shell to back it all up.]

- The tattooed freak, at the 3:18 point, says "I pledge to be in service of Barack Obama," as he kisses his biceps. [Does this mean you are going to offer your personal wealth as a solution to all the problems of the world this video describes?]

The last 20 seconds of this comes off like a Sovietized Ad Council propaganda piece. It's more chilling than anything the government could put together.

Toward the end the celebs repeatedly demand, "What's your pledge?" On the first viewing I couldn't think of a thing I'd care to add to their horrifying drivel. But on further thought, I do have a pledge to offer them.

I pledge to keep thinking for myself.

"A Servant To Our President"

I've got to stop eating lunch in front of the 'pooter. Not only does it expose me to the tripe to which I'm about to expose you, but it tests my spit-take reflexes to the absolute limit.

I suppose it says something about how far from the top my pop-culture elevator really goes that I don't recognize a single one of the 'celebrities' in this video. I didn't care what they believed or wanted me to do before I watched it, but if it brings them any comfort that's no longer true. I care. Oh, I care.

MySpace Celebrity and Katalyst present The Presidential Pledge


My answer is, "Not only no, but HELL no." That's for the record.

News About the Generator!

Shortly after I wrote that I'd had no news about the incoming new generator, I got the news. Seems it only shipped on Wednesday, and won't be in until the middle of next week earliest. That's good, anyway - I was getting worried.

Updates to follow.

Conflict in the Lair?

Woke this morning to raindrops on the roof. Fritz and Ghost agitated to get out about quarter to four, but then came back in and let me sleep for another couple of hours. When I finally stirred about the sun was lighting the sky on the far side of the ridge and the clouds were breaking up. Maybe it won't be such a dreary day after all.

Fritz seems to have something going on with Butch lately. Neither will talk to me about it, of course: It's not the sort of thing they'd voluntarily bring to Uncle Joel. But several times I've found Fritz taking an unusual interest in Butch's doings, and not in a friendly way. Butch has been picking on Click again, and the dogs consider that out of bounds. But the other day I was sitting at my table when Butch came by and wanted to play. He started wrestling with my hand where I dangled it toward the floor; it's a tomcat thing and we've done it since he was a kitten. I wasn't even paying that much attention, but suddenly Butch took a great heave off to one side, quite unlike his normal movement. I looked down and found that Fritz had quietly risen from where he'd been napping on the floor, placed the top of his muzzle against Butch and shoved him away from my hand. Then he stood over my hand, staring at Butch, his body language distinctly saying 'do you feel lucky?' Judging from his actions - he stared insolently for a moment and then left the lair - Butch did not, in fact, feel particularly lucky just then.

Butch has never gotten on very well with any of the other animals. But until now it's only with Click that it's come to blows, and she can take care of herself. Oh, he's thumped the dogs from time to time, but before they never paid much mind. I'd hate to think the boys are losing patience with him; that would not go well for him.

Yeah, still not working.

Lunching. But you know, I've had days like this. Seriously, this is why I don't work in the city any more. This right here.

Seriously.


The Great Office War from Runawaybox on Vimeo.

Gotta Get My Ass In Gear!

Winters here are very mild compared to where I grew up, and quite variable. A month ago I was huddled in the lair worried about whether my fuel supply would outlast the cold snap. Now it's late January and looking like spring, and I'm getting antsy about all the work I need to do to get ready for construction of La Casa Del Joel. Hell, if I'd played my cards right I could have had the shell up last year; if I don't get going on it now I'll never live it down.

Which brings me back to this ginormous stack of 2X12 lumber sitting under the barn's porch. It's been there so long it's become part of the scenery, and that's always a bad sign. When I got a big load of previously-owned 2X4s and 2X6s, I had them all de-nailed and stored within two weeks. These have been sitting here since early summer, and I need to get'em done; they're my concrete forms and my floor at least. There's a boatload of lumber here. But getting the nails out is a bitch - I don't know if the wood's really hard or if the previous builders just used cheap-ass nails, but I keep pulling the heads off. Wouldn't be so bad if I didn't need these boards first, but then I guess we'll just call it incentive. Gotta get back in the swing of things, that's for sure.

No News Yet...

...on the new Cummins/Onan generator, because it hasn't arrived yet. I've promised a product review for those interested in consumer-grade portable generators, but I can't review what I haven't seen. Hope it didn't get lost in shipping, I'm getting a bit concerned.

On Using Dogs For Security

I have an on-going dispute with the boys. I keep asking them to stop treating cattle in the meadow as if they're a horde of mutant zombie bikers climbing the slope with knives in their teeth. They keep explaining, 'But cattle are really, really important, Uncle Joel...'

Then there was the time Ghost was off visiting the neighbors, and Magnus and Fritz slept right through a couple of people walking right up to the door of the lair...we had words about that one. They've both got to the point where unless Ghost is there to alert them they don't smell or hear visitors till they're actually in the driveway, which isn't exactly the level of security I'm looking for.

I'm thinking about it this morning because I'm in the barn's scriptorium and Ghost is very, very excited about something in or on the other side of the wash. He's had me out three times, and it's raining. It's starting to piss me off. I've told him it had better be a hit team of Randian extremists here to punish me for selfless thought, and he'd better be able to point them out next time. Don't even get me started on how he behaves when he gets a whiff of horse.

Fact is, what dogs think is important and what I think is important doesn't often seem to mesh. I've been thinking I'm going to need to start depending on technology instead.

The Lastest One is Always the Worstest

I'm reading a lot of angst from my freedomista friends about the coronation of The Anointed One. You know the line - he's a socialist, he's an uber-gungrabber. Basically, the consensus is that he's the antichrist. Off my intended topic a bit, it's a sure bet that Obama-skeptics will be labeled racists, but his race never comes up; it's his record and his stated philosophy that scares hell out of people in my social circles.

I was thinking about this while out with the dogs this morning. It's funny that the one single president freedom-seekers haven't greeted with dread in the past twenty years turned out to be the one who did the most substantial damage to American liberty. I mean think about it - Bush the First was this awful Yalie millionaire Skill & Bones Washington insider; he'd been around since Eisenhower. He was in Congress, the UN, the CIA, the CFR. He was in bed with the oil companies. We hated him. As a president he wasn't exactly our dream date, but neither was he FDR. No, that's what we expected of...

Bill Clinton, the Hillbilly from Hope, whom we regarded as a veritable marionette of the evil Hillary! - of whose nicknames in those days none whatsoever were printable. And at first they gave it the old college try - I remember all the sturm und drang over socialized medicine, to be ushered in by "the smartest woman in America." After that, though, they settled down to two terms of a constant battle to save themselves from political oblivion. It's amusing that the thing that came closest to bringing Slick Willy down was the one thing I could never bring myself to hate him for. I mean, c'mon. Blowjobs? Wacky fun! I remember, though, how absolutely outraged I was at that man for dropping cruise missiles on innocent people, just to get his damned hearings out of a single day's news cycle. That was murder, pure and simple, and didn't even have a fig leaf of justification. But he was never called on it.

When Bush the Younger came around, though - admit it, the only thing we cared about Bush II was that he wasn't Clinton and he wasn't Gore. I know lots of otherwise perfectly rational people who voted for him, just because he wasn't Gore. The damage that man has done is too recent and too painful to need recital here. Hell, the only good thing about him was that the man himself was so easy to laugh at. But nobody laughed at his deeds: The "Patriot" act, prophylactic war, the War on a tactic, an infinity of signing statements, open torture, TSA, DHS, pissing on Habeas Corpus and Posse Comitatus, ... if he'd only held televised virgin sacrifices to Cthulu his record would be perfect.

No freedom-loving person could ever really welcome an incoming president. But Bush was the one we weren't very worried about - not really, not back in 2000. He was such a nonentity. And look how it turned out.

So you know, I just can't get worked up about The Anointed One. I don't know how it's going to go. And to be truthful I don't even really care any more. The idiots who voted for this guy deserve whatever fate he and his minions heap on them. I just wish it weren't going to hurt the rest of us as well. Seriously, except for snarking from afar I refuse to get involved. I'm gonna sit right here, keep my head down, work on my preps and my fitness, and keep this place ready for the day when the gulchers who know where it is need it. That day's coming, I'm more sure of it than ever. But if Obama manages to bring it about, he's standing on the shoulders of giants. Twisted, twisted giants.

Chipping Away at That Canyon...

Yesterday the boys and I went substantially farther into the big canyon we've been exploring than ever before. I got sidetracked for a while by interest in a tributary, but this time I wanted to know what's really around that elusive corner.

There's a ledge of rock, as even as a manmade wall, that marked my furthest point of entry. I went there on a whim almost a year ago, poorly equipped and - as it turned out - coming down with the flu. Then my landlord died and what with one thing or another the whole year went to hell. The boys and I have only fairly recently started exploring the canyons again, and a desire to avoid news of Coronation Day seemed a perfect opportunity to take a really, really long walk.

We went what seemed like a helluva long way into it and discovered some interesting things, but that sucka clearly goes on for miles and miles and I'm just a broken-down, one-legged old hermit. I can only walk for a couple of hours before getting so sore that my energy level just plummets, so an expedition to find the end of this thing could take me days and I think the big dogs are probably too old and wild to ever put up with carrying their own supplies. I spent yesterday afternoon nursing my poor abraded stump and thinking of ways to do it, but the truth is I don't know if I'm ever gonna get much further in than I did yesterday. Which is kind of a bummer because now I want to know.

I've got a copy of Google Earth and think I can find the right canyon - a little work with a GPS will confirm or deny that later. But the resolution is so poor that it doesn't show me anything but a vague, squiggly line. I already know the damned thing's squiggly; I don't need the Deathstar to tell me that.

Now that I've got THAT out of my system...

The dogs have been very patient with me so far this morning, but I can tell by the way they twitch every time I engage in an act of pandiculation (:-) word of the day!) that my quiet time is coming to an end. I promised them something good, and I'd better deliver.

Yesterday evening, in one of those serendipitous accidents that can happen when you turn right instead of left, I found a way around a big obstacle in one of the little rock canyons I love to poke around in. I promised we'd go back in this morning when we'd time for a proper bash, and we're going to right after I finish this.

I woke this morning to utter calm; the dogs were snoring all around me and Butch had spent the whole night snuggling against my chest under the blankets. The moon has waned until the scene outside my lair was almost completely dark. Ice laced my windows as I lit the stove for another morning. I spent two blessed hours with coffee and Harry Potter, and then...

And then I went into the barn where I keep the 'pooter, and the very first fricking thing it wanted to talk about was Coronation Day. I'd honestly forgotten.

Well, you know what? I'm going to keep right on forgetting. I'm going to turn this thing off right now, fill a canteen, put on my gloves and my pistol, and the boys and I are going for the mother of all rock-crawls.

Your choice, of course, but personally I suggest you do something similar.

Illegitimi non carborundum, dudes and dudettes.

Today's Your Big Day, Isn't It?

Are you ready?



Are we ready?