PIRATES!! Under the Black Flag

Under the Black Flag

by David Cordingly


I just finished reading this great non-fiction book about pirates. In 1992 I saw an exhibition about Pirates in the British National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England. And, yes, the neighboring observatory does feature the Greenwich Meridian as a line of thin tiles on the observatory’s floor.

My interest in pirates was rekindled Years back I had seen an exhibit about pirates in the same museum. It turns out Cordingly was responsible for that exhibit. The exhibit was presented in the from of a giant comic book.

“Under the Black Flag tells about pirates real and imagined. He manages to integrate chapters about pirate movies and movie pirates with in-depth and entertaining descriptions of the lives, vessels and exploits of pirates and pirate hunters from the late 16th (Frances Drake) through the early 18th century (Black beard). The book is bursting with privateers, corsairs, buccaneers and British and Spanish naval and merchant sailors. After reading about the lives of merchant seamen, it’s no surprise that so many were willing to sign on with pirates.

It’s interesting that when we think of pirates, the first characters that come to my mind are Black beard and Captain Kidd, who had rather short careers as pirate captains before being killed by the British navy or the hangman. One of the reason we remember these pirates so well is that the Admiralty wasn’t shy about spreading stories about the pirates they caught, as well as waiving their iron-banded and rotting bodies in front of the seamen to place fear in that pathetic lot.

Most of the book deals with European pirates, although there is mention of the toughest pirate in the 19th century China Sea, only know as Mrs. Cheng. Not surprisingly, we don’t have a lot of details about the pirates who didn’t get caught, with the exception of the government-sanctioned privateers in the 16th and 17th century. (aside – most of the music I play could probably be a soundtrack for this story.

After Drake, Henry Morgan was probably the greatest British pirate. He enjoyed the semi-legitimate label of privateer, invading and occupying several Spanish treasure ports around 1670 to 1675. After peace broke out between Spain and England, Morgan continued harassing the Spanish and French, until he was arrested by the Admiralty, and sent to London as a prisoner. Rather than facing trial, he was knighted by the king, and returned to Jamaica in the role of Lieutenant Governor, where he drank himself to death in a couple of years. Morgan’s exploits in the Spanish treasure ports are unbelievable, involving all sorts of deceptions, confused oxen roaming around battlefields,and,best of all, a pantomime pirate ship. It all reads like something out of Monty_Python's_Flying_Circus .

An entire chapter is devoted to the exploits of Ann Bonny and Mary Read, two female pirates-in-drag who served aboard the ship of Calico John Rackham, but after capture in Jamaica, were tired separately from the male pirates. The testimony from crew and passengers of ships their group had boarded proved that these women were true pirates. They were amazing characters. After being sentenced to hanging (even the judges were impressed with their pirate bona fides) they both admitted they were pregnant. The sentences were reprieved after examination. Ann Bonny died in prison of a tropical fever soon thereafter, however nothing is known of the fate of Mary Read or her child.

This book overflows with great stories like these (including Captain Kidd & the buried treasure).
Be not a scalawag. Iffen ye be wantin ta read bout pirates, This be yer treasure.

Arrghhhh, That be me story and to it I be stickin.

The Black Gate of Gondor

Yet another reason why they don't let mathematicians become King of all Men.


more graph humor and song chart memes

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Which Girls Cry?

I couldn't resist this chart. This graphjam.com website reminds me of all those years in consulting.



more graph humor and song chart memes

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I Know What You Were Doing in 1974

more graph humor and song chart memes

Man, I was fast as lightning.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Mark Twain’s Roughing It

I have always wanted to read this book, so when I saw a paperback copy of “Roughing it” at the SPCA used book sale, I coughed up the $1.75 and jumped in. It was wellworth the money. I recommend this book, however, you might want to overlook the chapters about Hawaii, which suck. The rest of the book is great.

I enjoyed the mildly self-effacing humor that runs through most of the book. I recommend this book for anyone interested in the old west or in mark Twain.

The story is told in an autobiographical manner, although I am sure plenty of what’s written fantasy. The story starts with Twain’s leaving St Joseph to act, for three months, as secretary for his brother, the appointed Secretary of the Nevada Territory. He stayed in the west for seven years. The book includes over seventy chapters, but can be divided into a few sections; the stagecoach trip, Brigham Young’s Mormon Kingdom, Nevada territory, California, Hawaii, and a brief and funny description of the genesis of Twain’s speaking career.

The book starts with a detailed account of the provisions Twain and his brother gathered for the trip, most of which they jettisoned in St Joseph, due to the limited luggage allowance for the stagecoach. The trip out west is a series of stories of the rogues and ruffians who made their lives in and around the stations stretched every 20 miles or so from St Joseph to Sacramento. These chapters introduce the underlying theme of the story, which is Twain’s reluctance to exert effort except when absolutely necessary and the failures he experiences whenever he tries to do anything. His unapologetic manner in these issues is what makes the book engaging.

Twain was amazed by the Mormon kingdom Brigham Young had established in America, and he was uncomfortable with the Mormon ways especially polygamy. I suspect he never dared set foot anywhere Deseret after this book was published. In an appendix he provides a damning account of the Mountain Meadows Massacre,where militias under the control of Joseph Smith committed a dastardly crime.

Life in Nevada and California is described as an unending string of almost becoming a millionaire, and then losing everything. I wonder if, when Twain wrote this in 1871, he had any premonition that this personal cycle of almost boom and total bust would haunt him throughout the rest of his life. The Nevada chapters include a lot of almost technical descriptions of mining techniques, which helped me understand some of the strange leftovers from 19th century prospecting I have seen while hiking in the Sierra foothills.

I will not speak of the chapters set in Hawaii, beyond saying that they sucked totally, and Twains revulsion and fascination with the what he viewed as the often nude and libertine of the natives . It’s hard to believe the same author wrote “Letters from the Earth” later in his life.

Overall, I found this to be a good read, although it tends to drag in some places. There are anecdotes that are simply too good to miss.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

WTF? Shut up Wesley!

Wil Wesley Wheaton Crusher has shown up playing “Mushy Shorts” on the Gorgeous Tiny Chicken Machine Show . This defies explanation, so you’ll need to see it for yourself. I am very impressed with Wesley’s beard. It seems every year he grows to more and more resemble Commander Riker.

Anyway, here’s the Gorgeous Tiny Chicken Machine Show. If you understand this, please explain it to me.



My pathetic situation of blogging about Wil Weaton has not escaped unnoticed. This must be a muffled cry for help. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

My Day in Reform School

My recorder consort, Sine Nomine, visited a reform school in Marysville, a small and impoverished city about 50miles north of Sacramento. It is notable that the Chamber of Commerce chose to present only historical photos on their website. That says it all. Houses in Marysville tend to go for Midwestern prices or lower, however, the community offers almost no jobs.

The small reform school we visited teaches the Waldorf program. All students in Waldorf schools do art and music in the afternoon. Each week ends with a short afternoon concert, where the students’ music groups perform. The school requires all the kids learn music by playing recorder in small groups. That’s the cheapest effective way to teach music, and it’s well entrenched in the modern German culture from which Waldorf arises. The teachers asked us to play a concert near the end of the year. Although the students did a great job of listening, I suspect I learned more than most of them in our afternoon together.

The school has about 60 students, all high school aged. The students come to the school through either the County’s juvenile justice system, or disciplinary expulsion from the public schools. Extreme discipline is the underlying principle of the school’s operation. Of all the students, only one consistently avoids detentions. Of course, when they raffled off a pass to get out of 30 minutes of detention, that kid won the raffle. It did raise the question in my mind that, “If this kid can follow rules so well, what’s he doing in this school?”. It’s probably best not to know.

The teachers told us that almost all the students are involved in gang activity, and I have to admit the kids looked pretty tough to me. The schools mandatory uniform is blue jeans and white t-shirts, which made the kids look even tougher. I was surprised that several of the older boys sported goatees. We and the teachers were all pleased that it turns out the best and most enthusiastic recorder player in the school is also reputed to be the toughest kid. This kid was over 6 feet tall, stocky and muscular. I was tempted to ask him to borrow his baggy jeans so I could use them as a four-person camping tent. I somehow managed to resist that temptation. The teachers said his enthusiasm has been a big help, since every boy new to the school would initially object to playing a “gay flute”, until the tough guy gave them a look. I enjoyed spending time with the students, however I probably would not have enjoyed meeting them at 1 AM, unless I was looking to score meth or “whatever the kids are calling it these days”.

We played two 20 minute sets of 16th and 17th Century music. We played tow galliards by John Dowland ,and two strange sounding galliards by Carlo_Gesualdo , whose music sounds like what you’d get if Miles Davis wrote strange harmonic incidental music for Shakespeare’s plays. Gueswaldo, the Prince of Venosa, was well known in his time for a murder so brutal even 16th Century Europe was scandalized. And better yet, he had a servant whose job was to periodically whip his master. Of course, with all this to recommend him, Gueswaldo has of late become a favorite composer in Sine Nomine’s repertoire.

Between our sets, the student’s groups played. I was very impressed with the silence and attention the students gave us when we played. If my tutoring students gave me the same degree of attention, I bet they’d get better grades. Unfortunately, the students were not as polite to their peers as they were to us. Several more detentions were assigned. One of the teachers took some pictures, which he will hopefully remember to email to me. I will share them as soon as I get them (if I get them).

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

How to Spend Your Tax Rebate

Every American needs to see this important informational video from the Federal Government. Your family's happiness will depend on following these instructions.




That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Covert Operations of My Al Gebra Sleeper Cell

Today’s Pearls Before Swine comic strip sums up what’s wrong with Algebra in our schools.

Here in California, the educational bureaucracy has more or less legislated that Algebra proficiency is a big deal. Students are subject to two batteries of testing.

The State requires STAR Testing (Stupid Tests Are Required) as its effort in complying with the Federal No Child Left Behind excuse for education policy. Every State has to do something like this. STAR tests are used to evaluate school-wide performance, as well as to cull students into three broad categories; below proficiency, proficiency, and above proficiency. Students’ individual results are used to place them in remedial, standard, or accelerated classes. Anyone remember “tracking’ from the 1960s? The Star testing process takes two to three weeks out of the instruction schedule. The actual tests take less than a week to administer, but the schools spend a couple of weeks before the tests reinforcing test-taking skills (an orgy of drill-and-kill instruction), rather than moving forward in the course syllabus. Schools feel pressure to cram their students for the STAR tests because disappointing school-wide performance will result in funding reductions and the threat of school closure.

As if STAR testing isn’t enough, students must pass another test to demonstrate the rather modest level of Algebra and English proficiency required to get a High School Diploma in California, thanks to the infinite wisdom of our legislature. Perhaps if the legislature required math proficiency from themselves, we could get a reasonable budget some day. This introduces another battery of tests called the California High School Exit Exam (CAHSEE) . The first lines of the first two tables in the incredibly long and boring report in this link tells the story; about 25% percent of students fail this test in their sophomore years, but only 5% to 10% fail when tested again in their senior year. Schools get their failing sophomores into intensive test-taking drill programs to get them through the test. That takes kids who aren’t learning as well as average out of their instruction. Brilliant, I say. After all, I can’t tell you how many employers have told me that they need kids with advanced multiple choice test-taking skills. As an aside, note the scores for “economically disadvantaged students”. In addition to all the other great virtues of this graduation requirement, it also helps assure that 25% of poor children will grow up to be poor adults. Hip Hip Hooray. Certainly, the best way to solve any social problem is by punishing the poor (see the recent California Budget May Revise).

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

An Afternoon at the Opera

I found this image of the original poster for Tosca in Wikipedia.

We saw Tosca produced by the Sacramento Opera. It was a good performance. The orchestra and the singers were great.


On the way home, I reflected on the many valuable lessons I have learned from opera;

Never declare your undying love. Although your love may be eternal, you and your lover are certain to be dead with the next hour. Just bottle it up and live.

Sexual predators are well advised to not leave daggers within the reach of their victim. Pay particular attention to this if the victim is Italian.

The human body is capable of singing arias for at least fifteen minutes after a violent death. This fascinating phenomenon is known as Rigaletto Mortis.

If you support a liberating army while simultaneously in love with a Woman who sings all the time, your army will be victorious, most likely within an hour after your death.

Boring people who don’t sing live forever.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I Was a Shill for Public Radio

A fellow member of the Sacramento Recorder Society talked about eight of us into staffing the phones for the most recent of Capitol Public Radio’s (CPR’s)far too often on-air fundraisings. We covered all the phones for about two hours on Saturday afternoon. I came with Recorder Society promotional talking points in hand. The on-air personalities took the notes and read them on their shows.

That’s step one in my secret plan for world domination, control the media and the American public will slavishly cater to my every whim. I wish I had thought of this diabolical scheme before General Electricput it into action.

We arrived early and were given a tour of the facilities. The furnishings looked spacious and pricey, and the electronic equipment looked costly. No wonder why they need to beg for money so often. Answering the phones was easy, and everyone we met at the station was nice, and there was good food from Jealousy Catering in the room where we worked, plus a freezer stocked with ice cream bars in the attached kitchen.

We took just over 70 or 80 calls in total. Capital Public Radio operates two radio stations in the Sacramento area. I learned something from the programming that ran while we answered phones.


KXJZ, The NPR talk and Jazz station featured Mick Martin’s Blues party. Mick is a well loved character in the Sacramento community, as well as among musicians, and the Blues Party kicks ass. His selections lean more toward rocking and rolling R&B type arrangements than the more down-home Southern style of Bob Johnson and other early Delta Bluesmen. Several callers (none with southern accents) called us to whine that Mick was not playing enough “real blues”. We also had a call from a guy in jail who wanted to hear the Allman Brothers. Mick said he isn’t even sure if he wants to call the Allmans blues or rock. He didn’t seem too concerned. He didn’t have any Allman brothers in his collections, so I hope the prisoner was happy with whatever Mick played. Just goes to show you can’t please everyone. This show brought us our share of drunk callers. Was it Aesop, or was it Donald Trump, who wrote, “A drunk with a valid credit card is a friend indeed”.

KXPR,the Classical Station, featured two hour-long shows, Sound and Spirit,and Harmonia. Sound and spirit is a new age music show with an announcer who, like so many other flakes, never shuts up. Harmonia is an early music show produced by the University of Indiana in Bloomington, which is an international early music powerhouse. It really is, no kidding. We targeted our volunteering hours to coincide with Harmonia, so any suspects for new members would hear our plug read over the air.

At the end of our hours, the tally showed that 100% of our callers were listening to the Blues party. The other shows did not produce a single call! I am still pondering the meaning of this.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Stevens Trail - A Friday off With Wildflowers

Since Kathleen took a day off of work last Friday, we decided to explore Stevens Trail
in the nearby foothills, near Colfax,CA.The trail actually starts on the edge of town nearest Interstate 80. You drive until the road becomes gravel, and that’s the trailhead.

But first some observations about Colfax. What is Colfax. This is a question whose answer changes from year to year. When I first visited Colfax in about 2000 or so, the towns visible character was influenced by weed-hippies who had recently been priced out of the Grass Valley area I the 1990s. We visited a coffee shop, talked with the owner, and while discussing here extensive collection of framed photos of Burning Man,we were invited to join her at her camp that year. Although the juggling and twirling culture sounds attractive, sharing the hot desert with a bunch of hippies into group sex and no showers doesn’t ring my bell. . We visited the same storefront in 2006 to find the coffee shop boasting a new owner, and full Mc Wives taking a break form driving their McSUVs Between their McMansions and the nearest good McMalls, in the Eastern Suburban Sacamento. The were really whining about the long drive to get to a decent store. I refrained from saying, ’They make houses in Sacramento, COW, so what’s your problem!.’ In any event, Colfax has become suburban hell in the middle of nowhere.

The first segment of the hike was downward sloping very well maintained trail through some woods. Unfortunately about ½ mile of the trail followed below the interstate and was a little noisy. Just a few steps out, I found a small frog in this small pond at the bottom of a small waterfall. This waterfall almost certainly dries up in late May.






















The forest floor was covered with a lush carpet of poison oak.

Do not use this plant for toilet paper, in fact, if you see some of these when you feel the urge to go relieve yourself off trail, you had better hold it for a while. This stuff makes poison ivy look alike aloe vera.

Mr.Good Judgment Hiker always remembers that the shape and color of poison oak varies. Sometimes the leafs are redder and the plants are leggier than in this picture.






The wooded trail took us back up over the rim of the canyon, and we could see the river a long way down.
















This part of the walk was full of spring wildflowers. We saw lots of poppies bromeliads, and unidentified species. I am not attempting to identify anything,because I would probably get it wrong. Look and enjoy.

At the end of our 4.5 mile hike, we stopped at a small rapids for lunch and the opportunity to stick our feet in the cold aerated water. Look across the river and note the big pile of rocks and the eroded slope to its left. That’s probably the handywork of some 19th century fortune seekers.



Speaking of the gold rush, we passed a couple of small old mine shafts dug directly from the trail into the hills. You can see a picture of one from here.



I didn’t find it interesting enough to bother taking a picture. What is interesting is that this cave is directly off of an edge path that is 18 inches wide at its best. The drop down to the river is several hundred feet. I have no idea how or where the miners processed their ore.







After lunch, the walk was all uphill, that’s the problem with hiking in canyons. The walk back was tough enough,with the temperatures in the 80’s, that we had to stop for A&W Root Beer Float. It was good.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

What is the American Dream?

Take This Job and Shove It!!

That is the true American dream. Employer – Sponsored Health Insurance is the American Nightmare that denies so many of us the Liberty needed for the Pursuit Happiness in our Life. (Sorry for that, Mr. Nickel profile dude)

This is a pervasive truth in America that everyone knows, however no one has the guts to say it. Until now.

Senator Ron Wyden from Oregon has produced a video to support his campaign for a comprehensive health care program that would take some steps to remove the linkage between health care coverage and employment. This is a hoot. Truth is always funnier than Fiction.



This video is refreshing, after hearing armies of Ivy League talking heads blather incessantly for weeks about whether Senator Clinton or Obama understands people whose estates are valued at less than $2 Million (or Joe Lunch bucket and Suzie Housecoat, as C. Montgomery Burns calls them). It appears to me that Senator Wyden is way ahead of the pack when it comes to understanding what motivates people who work for a living. Let's face it, we all want to eat the frosting off the boss’s slice of cake.

I actually looked at the proposed legislation, and I have my doubts as to how useful this legislation would be. The legislation would be beneficial if everything worked out exactly in accordance with the economic assumptions used by the plan’s supporters. This legislation has a fatal flaw that I see in almost every Healthcare Reform proposal involving private insurance but not employer-based plans. If the cost of healthcare were to rise beyond the rather rosy cost assumptions used to make the case that the plan is efficient, guess who gets stuck with the extra costs? Yep that’s right, the workers pay the entire cost overrun. Given the insurance rates would be developed by private insurers, regulated by Government, and paid by the households who will be legally required to purchase insurance (sounds too much like auto insurance to me), I estimate the probability of major cost overruns to be about 99.44%. Put that in your Ivory Soap and go take a bath.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Star Trek 11 - Ya Gotta Be Hosin me!

Oh God, No, No This Isn't Happening, Will We Ever Learn?



The Decline and Fall of Western Civilization


Somebody’s making a Star Trek XI movie, retelling the story of the early days of the Enterprise. What did I ever do to deserve this? Apparently, William Shatner was snubbed, proving that every cloud does have its silver lining. Unfortunately, from listening to the voices in the somewhat uninspiring trailer, I suspect we will be treated with an appearance by Leonard Nimoy, who will no doubt once again impress us with his awesome acting versatility by playing an uber-yid from outer space. From looking at the cast credits,I'm thinking Romulans! LT Sulu will be played by the guy who played Harry on the legendary quest for White Castle. Maybe Kumar will show up in a cameo as assistant physician. maybe I care.

The film’s website has forums, where Star Trek fans for the most part muse that the movie will most certainly suck, but they’ll watch it anyway. We need to be vigilant, folks. We need to support our comrades who post on IMDB to make sure this remake doesn’t screw anything up, such as using plot timing not consistent with the fact that Spock graduated the Academy several years before Kirk. C’mon doncha remember that Spock was Captain pike’s Science officer, playing second fiddle to the luscious “Number One”? We must not allow any violation of previously established Star Trek timelines, unless tachyon fluxes are involved, of course.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

How to Spend Three Trillion Dollars

I realize I missed National Surrealism week in the U.S. last week. I think the concept probably would have had broader appeal if the sponsors stayed more true to their concept. Surely, “National Surrealism Chimpanzee Catapult Bicycle” would have made more sense. Possibly it would have been just what we’ve been waiting for, something that could stun Suburban America out of its bourgeois stupor. We missed out on yet another opportunity for anarchy. Dang.

Hey – Maybe I was too involved in my own little world, and overlooked that we might, at this very moment, be living in National Surrealism Decade. Current events keep on spawning Surrealist Games. The latest game is called How Would You Spend $3 Trillion Dollars .

The youtube video you see below introduces this most excellent internet based game.




I’ve got to run. I need to buy Microsoft before somebody else does. Maybe I’ll buy healthcare for all our fellow Americans with some of the about $2.75 Trillion I’ll have left over. I wonder if the Cubs are for sale?

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

What Kind of Place for a Jewish Boy?

After hearing about a trip Kathleen and a friend took to Redwoods Monastery a few years back, I decided to join Kathleen fro a short retreat last weekend. I was a little concerned about hanging out with a bunch of Cistercian nuns. Happily the reality of being a guest at their retreat was somewhat akin to visiting a Disneyland of the Spirit, with the 11 retreatants playing the role of the Midwestern family relating to the 10 cloistered nuns’ appearances as costumed characters. Most of the time the nuns dressed like old hippies, as is the style of Humboldt County. However, these Sisters claim to support themselves by selling honey
rather than marijuana like most of their neighbors produce. I have never been anywhere in the U.S. where everyone admits that that the only two major employers in the region are the Government and the marijuana industry. Duuuuude!

We drove upon Thursday arriving at about 3:00 PM. My favorite part of this drive (besides a Frosty Freeze in Clear Lake) is short stretch of Hw 101 through Richardson Grove. We had time to walk around before a short Eucharist service at 5:30. The service was mostly chanting of psalms, as are all their services. Their chanting was beautiful. Although the psalms were chanted in English, their meanings were no more coherent to me than Latin. A lot about destroying enemies and all that business.

The chapel is quite a unique place. The wall behind the altar is all glass, looking out over a redwood tree and a small meadow, where we saw the antics of wild turkeys and deer several times over the weekend. The design was very simple, to the point of having almost no visible Christian symbolism.

Everybody sat in a semicircle around the altar. I learned quickly not to sit in the center, since they pass around communion from each side, and the person near the center of the arc has to walk everything back up to the altar. I felt pretty stupid doing that. We had supper of soup, bread and cheese (dinner at noon is the biggest meal of the day) with the other retreatants. The food was pretty good, although modest. The cheese was probably the fancy stuff made by Trappists in Gethsemane KY.

We got to bed early, recognizing that morning meditation was to begin at 5:45 AM every day, after a walk in the dark to the chapel. Each morning began with meditation from 5:45to 6:45, which went OK for me until the last day, when I allowed myself to lean against a wall. After that, it was a constant fight against falling asleep. Another chanting service at 6:00 was followed by (finally!) breakfast and coffee. We had breakfast with the nuns in their community room each morning. Breakfast with the nuns did not provide much insight into life in the monastery, since they maintain silence until 9:30 each morning. Breakfast was my favorite meal, with home-made granola, yoghurt, home-made preserves, toast & honey, peanut butter and fresh fruit. I noticed the sisters eat a lot of peanut butter. That appears to be their secret for supplementing an otherwise rather severe monastic diet.

After breakfast, we explored a redwood grove on the property. I get a kick out of giant trees. Trees are our friends.



We were lucky that trillium was blooming. These beauties grow under the redwoods.



We walked through a meadow over a hill from the cloister and guest houses



The photo album page has more pictures.

I spent some of the spare and quiet time available reading a couple of Buddhist books, to offset the Catholicism in the environment.

I felt refreshed after the retreat, most likely due to the deep quietness and calm of the experience, as much as anything else. I found myself thinking of a slight variation on the old advertisements for Levi’s Rye Bread; You don’t have to love Jesus to like it.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
.

Godzilla's Big Adventure

A participant in The Simple Living Network discussion group made this UTube video. Note, she lives in Wisconsin. With all apologies to George Tekai/ Ensign Sulu, it's amazing what a change of soundtrack can add to a story.



While we're on the subject, This short Japanese documentary takes a more serious look at the impact of monsters on one woman's day-to-day life in Japan. I can't say exactly why this struck me as funny. I am impressd how the Japanese carry this burden so well.



That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Other Peoples’ Problems Part II

The Public has demanded that I share the defense attorney’s story about the medieval archer. I omitted this parable because it didn’t make much sense, and I still can’t figure out the point the defense attorney was trying to make. Possibly it was a muffled cry fro help.

The parable, in short, is about an archer renowned for his excellent skills. He fires an arrow into the air, and it lands on a bull’s eye drawn in the ground. It’s a bull’s eye every time! Eventually one free thinker investigates and figures out that the archer draws the target after the arrow lands. This made absolutely no sense in relation to the trial, since the blood alcohol rules were defined in law long before the defendant was charged. I suspect the defense attorney was speaking to his personal frustration in handling a case where all the evidence points toward conviction. Maybe he was jealous of the Assistant DA, who, in addition to looking like the Barbie D.A. Doll, had a much easier job.

That’s some other guy’s pathetic story and, to may last day, I am not sticking to it.

Other Peoples’ Trials, Other People’s Troubles

It’s been said that on definition of comedy is Other Peoples’ Troubles. A jury duty assignment this week allowed me to test the theory, and I found that Other Peoples’ Troubles can be pretty boring. I was one of two alternate jurors in a DUI case. I have no idea why the defendant plead innocent and relied on an attorney from the Public Defender’s Office to explain to us the jury how his client was sober 45 minutes before maintaining a blood alcohol level above 0.10% over a period of three hours. Especially when it was painfully obvious that this guy was lit like a lamp when he was caught driving. I didn’t hang around for the sentencing, since I had seen enough of the courthouse by that time. I suspect the penalty was harsh.

Anyway, as an alternate juror, the trial, from every perspective imaginable, was definitely in the category of Other Peoples’ Problems. I wasn’t facing penalties, I was pretty sure I would not be given the burden of weighing evidence to determine guilt or innocence, and the jury takes no part in sentencing. Therefore, my role was more or less to answer some questions during the jury selection process, be invisible during the trial, watch and listen during testimony, take notes, and hang around the courthouse while the jury deliberated.

I attempt to make every new experience an opportunity from learning, even when the knowledge comes in the form of a negative object lesson. Here’s what I learned. Note number (4) may actually be useful.

(1) If you intend to drive while drinking, keep your car in good repair in general. More specifically, do not stop your car in a traffic lane on a busy highway bridge and have your engine start on fire. It is very difficult to be inconspicuous in this situation.
(2) If you have a cell phone, and your vehicle is on fire, call 911. Watching your vehicle burn and not calling in can raise suspicion. Other drivers will call within minutes. You will be found out anyway.
(3) When a law enforcement officer asks you if you have recently been drinking, do not, I repeat do not, tell the officer that you had three gins, but you waited about a half hour before driving, so everything is OK. The law enforcement community probably doesn’t buy into your theories of prospective sobriety.
(4) When the officer asks you to perform field sobriety tests (straight line walking, balancing and all that business), advise the officer that you have disabilities. This will detract from the credibility of any derogatory test results, and the law enforcement community lives in fear of ADA related Civil Rights Lawsuits. You will not have another chance to try this rationalization. This probably won’t help if you subsequently flunk a blood alcohol test, but why not go for the longshot?
(5) Do not stumble against a wall when you are asked to stand on one foot.
(6) Do not allow your attorney to tell a story about a mediaeval archer as the closing statement.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The NeoConsumer (Neocon) Strategy Revealed

No one respects the great contribution we Americans make in this world. At least up to now. Thanks goodness, Barbara Ehrenreich is finally willing to speak the truth. Her latest column trumpets our intrepid heroism in providing America’s contribution to the world’s wellbeing.

No one but Barbara appreciates all the work we have done over the last 30 years. Late night and weekends at the malls, every day of every week going the extra mile to assure our fellow humans in sweatshops have somewhere to send the stuff they make. Without our help, they would have run out of room to put the stuff they make years ago.

Our quiet and consistent consumer heroism has gone unheralded until recently, when, out of collective exhaustion, we stopped buying everyone else’s stuff. Let’s see those brilliant Chinese pick up the slack. The problem here is that they would have to start paying workers above slave wages to have enough consumers to buy much. Not allowed in the Workers’ Socialist Paradise.

Let’s see the oil rich Middle East nations pick up the slack. I guess that would require two major cultural changes (1) some wealth would have to be spread beyond the richest 20 people in each country, and (2) how many burkas can one woman wear in a week? Maybe they could start wearing them in colors.

Perhaps we could have our Government purchase all of China’s industrial output, put it all in airplanes every day, and drop the stuff on Iran. I see three distinctive advantages of this NeoConsumer (i. e., neocon) strategy;

(1) We would finally have a post 1970 rationale for having an air force. Seriously, has anyone won a war by leveraging superior air power since Israel did it in 1967? Anyway, portable missile technology sucked in 1967. We need to keep these military folks busy so they don’t kill thousands of people, which is not a proven way to make friends.
(2) If some of the stuff we drop doesn’t break on impact, we can probably get some economists to theorize how this glut of consumer goods will sink the Iranian economy. That ain’t the sound of big screen TVs bouncing off your roof, that’s the sound of freedom on the march.
(3) We could saturation bomb President Ahmadinejad’s house with Paris Hilton CDs. Why not?

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Public Service Announcement - Attention Single Men

Don't do what this guy did. For Heaven's sake, think of the innocent masses!


http://view.break.com/453711 - Watch more free videos

I repeat - do not volunteer to make an ass of yourself. Life will present many opportunities on its own, without your consent.

This scene (and I mean scene) happened at Huston Rockets game on 2/14. My favorite dramatic moments;

(1) The pathos of a jilted guy being comforted by a team mascot.
(2) The woman's slowly evolving visible anger.
(3) The jilted guy managed to find a beer before he crawled out of the arena.
(4) The announcers trying to find something to say.

Another shadenfreude opportunity!


That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Flying Possums Everywhere!

Here’s an excerpt from a very rarely read portion of The Book of Exodus.

And God didst sayeth to Pharaoh, the plague of Frogs hath doth serveth onlyeth to hardeneth thine heart.

Pharaoh didst retort in a mosteth glibbeth manner, I heareth speech in the tongueth of the great pharaoh James from the cold foggy isles, whose language will existeth not for millennia.

God didst sayeth in response, behold another miracle. Shaketh thou like a leaf and speweth thine guts in the presenth my power.

Upeth yours,said Pharoah.

In his anger and haste God broughteth upon the Nation of Egypt Plague 9(b), flying possums. The Egyptians found the flying possums to be delicious when roasted upon a stick, and werest not impressed in the least. Pharoah assembled his nation and in their witness, didst say that God waseth a big wuss, his plagues werest cowardly and he asketh God to bringeth them on.

You’ve heard the rest.

Why this sudden obsession with flying possums?, you may ask.

I fear that flying possums have been visited upon our nation, or at least my back yard. Yesterday contractors from the Electric Company came to trim our redwoods below the power lines. In true Semper Verens style, the redwoods grow about 5 feet every year.

While I was out chatting with the foreman, One of the guys up in the trees yelled cuidado debaillo (phonetic for look out below. Note I can’t spell in Spanish, deal with it). Jumping back, I expected to dodge a large branch , however, we were treated to the sight of a flying possum accelerating in our general direction. Sometimes I wish I was one of those freaks who videos their whole life. It was a sight. The possum landed about 15 feet from the tree and 5 feet from us, stopped for about 30 seconds, looked around and shuffled away. I think old pogo was having a bad day.

The lesson I learned is that possums are funnier than rats. One of our lovely rats flying towards me would not have struck me as funny. I am a non repentant specist.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The Truth About The Conspiracy

Finally someone is willing to tell the truth about the Catholic Church. After years of simply not getting it, now it all makes sense to me.




This absolutely slayed me.

That's my (OK really some British guy's) story and I'm sticking to it.

The Empty Vessel

Meanderings of a mind with vacancies. . .

Yup, the empty vessel. A symbol of the state of mind that East and South Asian inspired meditators want to attain. Looking at the blog lately, sometimes it feels like I have accidentally attained that state of mind myself. As I sit with the computer, great ideas simply do not fly out of the fingers. Not to worry, I can feel something welling up as I type this, at this very moment. Pray to all the universal forces of good that I am not channeling the recently departed William F. Buckley. However, I could live with channeling his language skills, provided I don’t get the British Public School accent in the bargain. No I don’t think it is a dead editor’s voice, so I will allow myself to continue. . .

I am trying in my addled little brain to decide if I can identify an observable difference between the symptoms of mild depression and Nirvana, Samadhi, or some other religiously sanctioned enlightened state or dead musician. As I recall, both usually involve celibacy and not doing much else either. So, if I observe these behaviors in a friend or acquaintance, what conclusion do I come to? What do I do about it? Do I send them to the Doctor or to Nepal? Maybe I should just take them out for pizza and beer. That goes well with every mood.

Now back to the mundane.

We are seeing our first installment of spring continue. I took a 15 mile bike ride Friday. T-shirt weather. I rode on the American River trail from near our place out to Jim’s Bridge. I couldn’t good pictures of the areas where I rode, but this guy’s video can give you an idea of what some parts of the trail are like, if you happen to be a really wobbly bike rider. I find some humor in the video, especially the several near spills. Anyway, it's some guy in a beard riding on the bike trail. Viewing this video will provide you with a Being John Malkovich experience. This is not a precise virtual experience, since everything is a lot greener in the spring. Nature works backwards here, where every fall the vegetation comes to life until it dies in the late spring. Go figure.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Schadenfreude; My Lunch with a Bureaucrat

As promised, I had lunch Wednesday with my former boss from the Agency. If I had to summarize what I learned, I could say that everything that bugged me about the Agency has increased, with absolutely no offsetting positives. Statewide budget shortfalls have served only to accelerate the stupidity and duplicity.

On the bright side, he pitched that I could work there part time whenever I wanted to. There are two important facts to keep in mind when thinking about this. First, bureaucrats in the Agency are notorious for promising to do things that simply are not within their power to do. Second, I absolutely hated working there. Every day presented a new challenge in maintaining a reasonable level of professional integrity. Aside from that, I say what the heck, eh?

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Funny You Don’t Look Fluish

K has been down with a bad cold this week. Symptoms began in Friday last week. She finally yesterday off, she is having a tough time. It probably would have been better to take off a day or two at the beginning of last week. Let that be a lesson to all of us.

As yoga teachers love to repeat, it is important to listen to your body and respond honestly.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Bad Timing, but is There Ever a Good Time?

We are having nearly perfect weather for this three day weekend, but it seems like half the population is sick with a cold and fever. I am hanging around the house taking care of K, who as I write this at ten in the morning is in bed sleeping it off, but with a lower fever than yesterday.

Last week I finally started putting forth some effort to contact folks I have worked with. I am starting with my former boss at what I will refer to as the agency. He is desperately looking for another agency to work for, more or less for the same reasons I bolted last fall. We’ll have lunch Wednesday.

I cannot believe how long I have put off efforts to renew contacts with work related folks. I really needed this much time to pass for the bitterness to get to a level where it isn’t apparent. I had to get to the point where I can just say things like professional issues and massive reorganization to describe my last two jobs and how they ultimately ended. Anybody with brains can figure out the story beyond that, and it certainly isn’t in my best interest to tell them.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

No More Mr Nice Guy

I am proud to share John McCain's glorious view of a future full of possibilities (at least for the few most deserving). I am so glad we have a republican candidate who has the guts to stand up to those cross eyed lilly-livered self-help analyst couch potatoes with their snotty "yes I can" pap.

Here, let Senator McCain tell it like it is in mostly his own words.

By the way, has anyone but me noticed the way conservatives cheer when their candidates mention terrorism? Holy Francisco Franco Batman, whose side are these guys on?

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Doctors, Ugh

Doctors, Ugh

I went to the doctor today, for the annual check up and to deal with a couple of small nuisances. I see the PA, because I have figured out ½ hour to 45 minutes with the PA is more useful than a doctor trying to complete a 15 minute visit in 5 minutes. We were able to take care of everything, however there is something disconcerting about dealing with what passes for health care in these United States.

Dealing with the office folks before the visit is always a drag. You get treated more like a number than a human being. Given the existing finance mechanisms, there’s no way to avoid that. At my doctor’s, each visit begins with weight and blood pressure measurement by the technician. Her first shot at the blood pressure gave 141/80. I had to say,

Hey, just minute there, my life time record high is 125/85.

She took a second reading of 122/81. It would have been lower if not for dealing with the pre-visit paperwork. Next, enter the PA.

The PA and the surgeon who took care of me when I had my surgery have both left, the PA to Guatemala and the surgeon to retirement. Therefore, I feel a need to tell my abbreviated medical background to the new PA. I am afraid I overwhelmed her, although she seemed to have gotten over it, since she ordered the correct tests. I need to take a weird hormone and blood sugar test to assure there isn’t any repeat action in tumortown. The observable symptoms tend to be subtle until things get past a breaking point and life becomes weird. Therefore, I have to do some tests to assure everything is OK.

In any event, I give fasting blood tomorrow morning, and we’ll meet again in early March to go over the test results. I have to do some concurrent monitoring in the interim. This is the price I pay for admitting I don't feel perfect and great when I work out with weights.

The Punch Line: While driving home, I realized that the symptoms I have been experiencing are most likely happening because I am drinking too much coffee in the morning. I will cut down starting tomorrow and see how that works. I wish I could have these kinds of revelations in a more convenient order (i. e., figure out about coffee before deciding I need to go to the doctor). Life is just like that.

Doctor, Take Up thy Stethoscope and Walk. Thus spake Pink Floyd

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I’m doing bicycle repair, Nyah, Nyah

The nyah nyah is targeted toward my Midwestern readers.

Although we can expect a week or two more of wet weather sometime between now and April, I am sitting here with the windows open. Today’s high temperature will be above 65 degrees F and the sun is shining. I can deal with this.

I spent a couple of hours earlier this afternoon getting our bicycles into riding shape. This unbelievably February weather that we seem to get every year always catches me off guard. I should have taken care of the bicycles last week, since I always try to give the tires a few days lose pressure and reveal any slow leaks. I figure that’s better than finding a slow leak 10 miles from home. I have done a trail-side inner tube patch, but that is a real pain. By the way, those little frame-mounted air pumps don’t give you much pressure, unless you’re a lot stronger than me. Aside from cleaning and lubrication, the only real work I did was readjusting the lower low gear adjustment screw on one of the rear derailleurs. Everything else looks to be in good shape.

Since it looks like the weather will hold out, I may take a shorter ride on the American River Bike Trail . I figure for the first outing of the year, I should limit myself to about 10 miles. The bike trail is my favorite thing about Sacramento. It is a jewel laying in the midst of some of the ugliest urban sprawl I have seen. I can take the trail downtown, have morning coffee break across from City hall with Kathleen, or I can ride east, from near our place to Fair Oaks. Both these are about a 12 mile round trip.

I always put the bike on a rack and drive to somewhere near the trail. Bike riding on the streets is not a good idea (that’s where the urban sprawl fits in).

It is amazing how a couple of balmy, sunny days can lift the spirits.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Is the Healthcare in California Influenced by A Modern Prometheus?

California, thanks to a thorough legislative audit bureau and a refreshingly practical minded legislative committee, has just avoided about the most ill conceived and underfunded harebrained healthcare reform scam yet to surface in these United States. After our narrow escape, you have to wonder who’s watching the store.

Some local pundits claim the reform efforts were ruined by the administration’s never ending obsequiousness expressed in its efforts to twist the reform to please the varied moneyed constituencies, including the mangled care industry, hospitals and doctors.

Well I did some further investigation, and I although I cannot divulge the most fertile sources of ignorance, stupidity and bumbling toadyism within the administration that produced this embarrassment (at least not without the risk of getting in trouble), I wonder if everybody’s favorite doctor, Dr Frankenstein, was involved.

Important disclosure: This article is not in any way a realistic reflection of Dr Frankenstein’s (Gawd, I love typing this guy’s name) contributions to the failed health care reform (if he was involved at all), nor his very impressive lifelong contribution to physician practice in Southern California. Rather, I am solely poking fun at the guy’s name.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Continuing Professional Education versus Dracula

Continuing Professional Education versus DraculaNo, this is not a newly re-released cult film from the 1950s.

I used most of today to catch up with professional reading. I can log up to 30 hours independent reading a year. I read the last four months’ periodicals form two actuarial organizations, for a grand total of three hours.

I read about recent proposals for principle based valuation standards, Bayesian credibility theory, changes to continuing education requirements, letters from the organizations to the IRS about recent decisions related to pensions, among many other equally engaging topics.

I read an inspirational short article about how ‘Standards of Practice are our Friends’. Although some people I know don’t share that attitude, they are not nearly as badass as the wimpiest of the undead..

It is with great regret that I must make the shocking disclosure that actuarial literature does not hold a candle to Dracula, although the technical knowledge available in each cannon may be of similar value. It is interesting that fans of both genres tend to express their enthusiasm by dressing in dorky genre-related costumes, however fans of Dracula seem to be more enthusiastic about piercing, and they probably have better music at their parties.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Just Look the Other Way

The rainy days continue.

I realize that over the last few months, I’ve been eating more in the evening and losing more and more sleep with stomach aches. I have been ignoring this and avoiding the inconvenient truth that I need to limit what I eat, and especially when I eat solid food. So, this week, I am trying liquid dinners. Not the kind of liquid dinner you get at the bar. I have had milk, yoghurt and frozen fruit smoothies so far, and I bought some protein powder to add to the mix. Yum, yum. Thank goodness I can eat normal breakfasts and lunches. Hopefully, after a week or two things will calm down and I can drop this routine.

Going to the health food store is always an experience. I don’t usually see much in the way of exemplars of good health there. The shoppers either look sickly or filled with steroids, and the staff looks the sickliest of all. My smoothie recipe so far is about 6 ounces of milk, a couple tablespoons of unflavored yoghurt, and a few chunks of frozen fruit into the blender. There’s really not much to this. I hope that adding the vanilla flavored protein powder in lieu of the sugar will make a more substantial meal and won’t taste awful.

I spent over half a year in my (sick as a) dog days getting about half of my nutrition from Ensure. No matter how bad this stuff turns out, it is better than Ensure. Ensure tastes like slimy tootsie rolls, had a disturbingly viscous texture and rots your teeth. Triple yum.

I haven’t gotten much done lately, since I haven’t been getting much sleep and have been accordingly moping around during the days. However, I did get out for a long walk in the woods yesterday, during a short period of sunny weather. That was a good thing to do. Next week project is to get out of this week’s rut.

I have been reading an annotated version of Dracula, which is proving to be a far better read than I had imagined. The novel is gripping, even though it uses the long winded Victorian era journal entries as the medium for telling the story. I am definitely enjoying this one.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Barley Soup – No Gruels Allowed

Years ago, I visited Ann Arbor, MI at least twice each year, since my first wife’s family lived there. Once of my fondest memories of those trips was eating at Zingerman’s Delicatessen on Detroit Street. They have great sandwiches and unbelievable barley soup.

Years later, the recipe surfaced on Epicurious.com.

This is a great soup for crummy weather. It has the same impact as putting your feet up in front of fireplace.

Rest assured this recipe has absolute no resemblance to revolting gruelish barley soups that are sometimes seen in health food restaurants. This is barley soup of the ages, not of the New Age.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Seasonal Blahs, Otherwise Known as the Crapuary Follies

We have entered into the usual January and February weather funk in Sacramento. Highs in the 40 ( that’s Fahrenheit for you cosmopolitan sophisticate types) and rain mixed with drizzle until late next week, even though it’s been this way for the last 5 days. The only consolation is that we can look forward to a summer without rain. I guess that’s a consolation only if you don’t need water in your life. The other consolation is that bicycle riding weather starts in March. Exercise is a lot more fun when you can see things.

Added to all that, it’s the usual unentertaining crazyness (aka meshugas) that this type of weather never fails to bring on. Not to mention putting down DMIL’s cat and my somewhat loose connection to the workforce. These moments are interesting because they teach me about myself.

For instance:

When I feel like useless poop, what do I do?. . .

I declare the following day a MAJOR KITCHEN PROJECT DAY!

As I write this, I have barley soup going on the stove, and bread dough rising in the oven. I’ll give the soup recipe in a separate blog entry.

What I find interesting in all this whining is that when I’m in the poops and feel a great need to be useful, I head to the kitchen. I know I can make people (including me) happy this way. Truly, we never escape our ethnic backgrounds. Somewhere in my background is a Russian-Jewish-grandmother-powered-forced-feeding-tube.

When the weather sucks, I tend to feel a little like a slob since I am not at money-grubbing work a lot of the time.

I am reading a pretty good recent novel, An Arsoninst’s Guide to Writers’ Houses in New England. Somewhere in the novel, the protagonist says that a job makes you normal. There’s some truth in that, as well as much truth that being normal isn’t usually the goal. However, passing as normal does tend to make day to day life easier. (by the way, the public library is where you go to find questionsly employed guys like me single women take warning Don’t Meet Men at the Library!)


That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Farewell to a Furry One

After several weeks of visits to the veterinarian’s office, my DMIL’s (dear mother-in-law’s) cat had to be put to sleep yesterday. We believe she was somewhere in the range of 11 to 15 years old. She had lived with DMIL for about 7 years, and had lived with us two years prior to that. She (Beulah the cat, not DMIL) forged a very close relationship with DMIL. Although often visitors didn’t see the cat, while alone at home the two were inseperable. Hiding from humans other than “her person” was her way. Beulah vocalized like no other cat I have heard. Her vocabulary included at least 15 distinct sounds.

DMIL seems to have taken this loss pretty well, but she does not plan to get another cat. I think my wife may be taking this worse.

Over the last month, the cat developed digestive problems. She wasn’t moving food through the system at a sufficient rate. This is similar to the problems I had severely a few years back, and will probably deal with at a more moderate level for the rest of my life. I really felt bad watching the kitty deal with this and all the troublesome medications. Last week, she came to the point where she was neither willing nor able to eat properly. Alas, she had to be put down.

I took DMIL to the eye surgeon today for a quick touch-up on her cornea and lens, some of which has been transplanted, although some is original equipment. The doctor let me in the room to watch him fire the lazar at the cloudy areas. The procedure took about a minute, but we spent a couple of hours between checking in, forms, and pupil dilation. Surprisingly, through all this dull time together, DMIL appears to be mostly over losing her pet.

That, and teaching some Math students, has pretty much filled up my week so far.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Recorder Society Party

I wrote the President's Letter in the the Recorder Society's next newsletter.

As a special bonus, hangininsac readers get to see it first, in the raw director's cut format. No need to overwhelm me with your profuse thanks.

Here's the news:

Our annual Twelfth Night Party took place January 12th at Parkside Church, redefining the concept of the Twelfth Night. We enjoyed great performances by several groups of SRS members and friends, in additional to our celebration of the SRS’s 25th anniversary.

The evening started with the traditional performance of Carols by the Parkside Church Bell Choir, followed by the Sacramento Recorder Society Orchestra. Lee Ross directed us in several holiday songs from the SRS holiday music collection.

We commemorated the SRS’s 25th anniversary with cake and a show of our appreciation for the former SRS presidents who were present; Billie Hamilton, Dorothy Orolin, Gerry Greer, Elsa Morrison and Robert Foster.

Sine Nomine played shape note hymns and two 16th century Spanish pieces, followed by Mab’s Merrie Minstrels’ unique interpretation of traditional Christmas carols. Three members in southern areas presented the inaugural performance of the San Joaquin Ars Nova Trio.

The River City Renaissance Band performed medieval and Renaissance songs on a variety of period instruments. We were warned that a seemingly innocent habit of playing recorder could lead an unwary musician into other period instruments such as viols, sackbuts, shawms. The Band put on a skit that gave me a completely new perspective of gifts in the 12 days of Christmas song.

John Pronko sang a Sephardic song that presented a somewhat surprising view of romance. The Absent Minded Women played wassail songs.

Mab’s Merrie Minstrels ended the evening leading us in community singing.

On behalf of the SRS board and membership, I thank all the performers and others who helped make the 12th night party a success. You are the Sacramento Recorder Society.

We Know What Good Fences Make, But Who Makes Good Fences?

I lost 40 feet of backyard fencing in last Friday’s storm. I am having a heck of a time getting the repair (really a replacement) set up. I have been having a tough time getting the work scheduled, since lots of other folk’s fences have blown down. It is difficult to reach anyone at a fencing company right now. We checked with people’s experiences, I have talked to the company once and agreed on price, and I have already gotten agreement from the neighbor. The tough part appears to be getting a date. I know it won’t get done tomorrow or next week, but I just want to have a date scheduled, so I can forget about this for a while. I suspect the fence builders are out trying to find more crews.

As I write this, I am looking out the window seeing our new view of the back neighbor’s house through our redwood trees. In a weird way this new view comforts me. I realize I miss the fenceless back yards of the Midwestern towns where I grew up and started adulthood. I like looking out and seeing distance beyond the end of my back yard. I find the more open look comfortable. Fortunately, the back neighbor does not have a dog.

That's my story and I'm sticking ot it.

Welcome Back My Friends to the Blog that Never Ends

Happy New Year

The holidays are finally behind us, with the exception of the Super Bowl, which certainly isn’t a holiday if your live in Northern California, and probably will resemble the 14th day of lent for those of us with roots in Wisconsin.

I survived the holidays, in-laws and all, and I lived to write about it! Actually, everyone behaved as well as can be expected, and there was a lot of good food. Mostly rich and meat-laden good food. I am still getting over the effects of that.

I am going into the New Year, as usual, not knowing what in the heck I am doing. One thing I am sure of is that immediate prospects for turning the dollar are pretty weak. Time to focus on saving some money. This is where I get in touch with my inner tightwad through a lot of stuff I have learned over the years from the Simple Living Network and the New Roadmap Foundation.


It has been said that if Benjamin Franklin were alive today, he would say that a buck saved is about as good as a buck seventy earned, thanks to the myriad of taxes that we live with. In other words, not spending one dollar is about $1.70 you won’t have to earn. I have started some efforts in that direction this week.

Tightwad the First: I will take over housecleaning from maids we have been using. We first hired maids when both of us were working full-time, and money was more available than time. Dropping the maids will save about $170 per month. I did a full cleaning on Wednesday as a test and found it takes me about 4 hours to do a similar cleaning. I found and cleaned a lot of places the maids have been missing for about a year. I’ll only need to do a full cleaning once every other week, and I can split the job over more than one day. I can also do the laundry while cleaning. The pay-off works out to about $17 per hour after taxes, about $29 per hour before taxes. Besides, it was getting to be a pain keeping out of the maids’ way, and that was costing me about 1/3 of the time it takes me to do the job myself.

Tightwad the Second: I found a slow leak under the kitchen sink last night. I think I fixed it today (of course, as with all DIY projects, only time will tell). For the gear heads out there, all I had to do was reseal some joints where the faucet parts attach to the sink. I used plumber’s putty, which is, btw, way easier to use than silicon. In any event, I have protected the area from water damage if it still leaks, so if it isn’t fixed now, I’ll get it right next time. When I was making the big bucks, I would have only had time to call the plumber. That saved about $100, which is the typical cost of a house call from a plumber in our high cost region. The entire ordeal took under two hours, including internet research and a trip to the hardware store.

Tightwad the Third: I called the two professional associations with which I need to belong should I ever wish to return to my profession. The combined annual dues are about $1,300. Both associations allowed me a waiver of dues. Apparently the bylaws specify partial dues waivers for members with anticipated earned income under stated limits that are larger than what I expect to earn. That saved about $1,000. Now my only remaining professional expense for the year should be continuing professional education, which I should be able to complete for under $1,500, and about 20 hours of independent study. I am not yet ready to drop the profession, so this is the cost.

Well, beyond this business, I haven’t got a clue as to the direction of my life, except I am certain that to my last breath, I will maintain . . .

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I am Proud of My Alma Mater.

University of Wisconsin has produced what will surely be considered among the most important scientific findings of the 21st century. The BBC reports Wisconsin researchers prove Guinness really is good for you! The secret of eternal life has been revealed. Ignore at your own risk.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Winding Down to the Year’s End

The remainder of the year for me includes a mini-vacation with Brother and Grown-up nephew this weekend, in-laws visiting over Christmas, and a wrap-up with New Years Eve fireworks with the neighbors.

We have decided to incorporate the Guatemalan tradition of burning the devil inot our New Years Celebration. Guatemalans burn their devil on December 7, at the festival mundanely called La Quema Del Diablo. I wonder if anyone in the imperial Japanese naval command had a side interest in Latin American culture. Coincidence or conspiracy, I leave that question to the readers. Our Guatemalan friends are sophisticated urbanites and think these Mayan influenced stunts are a hoot. Most importantly, I am sure Maximon will be pleased.

Yikes! Another New Year Coming

Holiday parties and food aside, I am being drawn into the vortex of the dreaded New Years appraisal of what the heck is going on in my life. Having left the chimera of security of State employment in November, and having no solid plans for the future beyond part-time math tutoring, several weekly workouts and yoga classes, music stuff, and hanging around. Hey, outside of the 8 to 4 timeframe, I may be busing my time better than a lot of sheeple out there. I am glad I left the State job, since that environment’s pervasive level of professional integrity took a lot out of me. I needed to get that gig behind me. While employed by the State, I felt like I was being useless but on a payroll and interacting with a bunch of other state employees all the time. I miss the payroll. Enough said.

Getting over that, I really haven’t glommed on to anything that’s big news. I plan to continue professional memberships and the required continuing education. This will all cost about $3,000 this year, plus about 50 hours of my time. I do not feel ready to completely jump off that ship. Yet.

It’s nearly 10:00, time to get go work out with weights before yoga class. My yoga class is mostly women who are enjoying early retirement from teaching and other public sector work. I haven’t completely connected with the women in the group. They seem bothered by the fact that I am not at work during the day. I have become occasional work-out buddies with a recently retired doctor, although neither his wife nor I can drag him into yoga class. He went to yoga a few times, and left mumbling something about stress positions and the Geneva Convention. He worked with the doctor who whippled me back in 2003. He chuckles when I do sit ups and curse my surgeon for saving my life. Yikes, what a life!

I’ll get back around noon, have lunch and a shower, play some music for about an hour, then read here or go to the library for a couple of hours. I will be busy tutoring from 4:30 to 8:30. That’s what my weekdays look like. In some measures, my weekdays might be more productive than when I worked for the State and my major focus was proactive resistance. Did you ever notice State is Satan spelled sideways, sort-of?

Sometimes I look to the fine arts to understand these dilemmas:

"When there's no future how can there be sin
we're the flowers in the dustbin
we're the poison in your human machine
we're the future your future

No future for you No future for me
No future no future for you"

- Sex Pistols

"Gone but not forgotten, this is the story of Johnny Rotten" - Niel Young

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The Story of Stuff

The Story of Stuff is a simple but compelling video presentation of basic economic environmental principals. The 20 minute presentation presents the basic ecological / environmental story by following the movement, processing, marketing and ultimate disposal of materials (generically called Stuff) as they work their way through the global economy. I thought this video was well worth the 20 minute viewing time.

Although I think the video is excellent, it presents nothing new. The video’s value lies in its plain and easily comprehensible presentation. It is simple, clear and entertaining.

Creative Financing: It’s not Just for McMansionites Anymore

I am sick and tired of all the media hand-wringing about the evils that creative mortgage financing have wrought upon we unsuspecting good citizens.

We tend to overlook the beneficial economic impacts of the cash that our recent easier-than-Paris-Hilton credit market has bestowed upon We The People. You need look no further than Elk Grove, CA, a horrid overgrown suburb south of Sacramento. Thanks to easy finance for home mortgages, Elk Grove’s economy has benefited from an economic boom in the home grown (f’real, dude) marijuana industry. Honestly, I am not making this up. Elk Grove has seen several raids similar to this one reported by the Sacramento Bee.

At first, this seemed insane to me. I thought there must be a cheaper way to grow weed than buying a costly suburban house and filling it with dirt and grow lights. Then I remembered how mortgage financing worked in Sacramento. It all fits together.

For most for the last four years, mortgages for up to 110% of a house’s purchases price were available to Elk Grove homeowners. Further, homeowners could arrange for monthly payments less than the accrued interest on a loan. This led ingenious marijuana entrepreneurs to do something like this example.

1. Purchase a $400,000 house.
2. Take out a mortgage for $440,000 to fund the purchase and start-up costs. This would require monthly payments during the teaser period of around $2,500, including taxes. The grower walks away from the closing with the title and $40,000 cash-in-hand.
3. Set aside about $10,000 for the first four months of mortgage payments. Use the remaining $30,000 to fund start-up costs. I imagine that by 4 months there’d be product to sell.
4. It gets even better! Before the clichéd bubble burst, after 6 months the house’s value (as determined by the lenders) would have increased, allowing the entrepreneur to take a home equity loan for an additional $50,000 or so to buy a boat, or expand into meth.

So, next time you light up, don’t forget to thank your nearest bankrupt mortgage loan company, and thank God for capitalism!

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Umberto Eco and 17th Century Recorder Music

Those wacky Dutchmen from Utrecht are at it again. The Official Jacob van Eyck website reports a recent (okay, recent relative to 1652) significant Jacob Van Eyck sighting.

For the uninitiated (i. e., normal) among the readers, Jacob Van Eyck was a carillon and recorder player in Utrecht who around 1651 published a large book of hundreds of variations of religious and popular tunes of the time for solo recorder. The book , which I purchased from Courtly Music (I recommend you purchase from them, too), is very cool and fun to play over 350 years later. The title is Der Fluyten Lust Hopf. By the way, Courtly Music delivered the books about three days after I ordered them. That’s pretty quick after waiting several centuries.

The "Daphne" mentioned below is a song from this book which proved very popular in its time. Van Eyck's "Daphne" was featured in Black Robe, a 1991 movie about a French priest among the Indians in Quebec. In a flashback scene, the young man realises the futility of his Parisian bourgeous existance while listening to his sister play "Daphne" in his mother's parlor.

This article is reprinted from The official Jacob van Eyck Website

Jacob van Eyck in literature: The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco

The first novel featuring Jacob van Eyck has yet to be written, but there is one literary work in which the Utrecht Orpheus appears, even though he is not named specifically. It is the book L'isola del giorno prima or The Island of the Day Before (1994) by Umberto Eco, known primarily for his previous best-selling novels The Name of the Rose and Foucault's Pendulum. The author, Professor of Semiotics at the University of Bologna, is also a keen amateur recorder player. {YES, YES! Another member of the “unshaven recorder players’ fraternity}

The Island of the Day Before is an adventure story set in 1643. The main character, the young Italian nobleman Roberto, is shipwrecked aboard the Amarilli (in the English version translated as Amaryllis). He winds up on a Dutch vessel then known as a 'fluyt'in Dutch, the same word for 'recorder'. The ship is called the Daphne. And in his imagination there is another ship called the Tweede Daphne, "that is to say, Daphne the Second, a sign that somewhere there must be a Daphne the First, which showed how those Protestants lacked not only faith but also imagination." (transl. W. Weaver, p. 403)

It was early morning, and Roberto again was dreaming. He dreamed of Holland. It was while the Cardinal's men were conducting him to Amsterdam to put him on the Amaryllis. During the journey they stopped at a city, and he entered the cathedral. He was impressed by the cleanliness of the naves, so different from those of Italian and French churches. Bare of decorations, only a few standards hanging from the naked columns, the glass windows plain and without images: the sun created there a milky atmosphere dotted only by the few black forms of the worshippers below. In that peace a single sound was heard, a sad melody that seemed to wander through the ivory air, born from the capitals or the keystones. Then he noticed in one chapel, in the ambulatory of the choir, a man in black, alone in one corner playing a little recorder, his eyes staring into the void.

When the musician finished, Roberto went over to him, wondering if he should give him something; not looking into Roberto's face, the man thanked him for his praise, and Roberto realized he was blind. He was the master of the bells (der Musicyn en Directeur van de Klokwerken, le carillonneur, der Glockenspieler, he tried to explain), but it was also part of his job to delight with the sound of his flute the faithful who lingered at evening in the yard and the cemetery beside the church. He knew many melodies, and on each he developed two, three, sometimes even five variations of increasing complexity, nor was it necessary for him to read notes: born blind, he could move in that handsome luminous space (yes, he said luminous) of his church, seeing, as he said, the sun with his skin. He explained how his instrument was so much a living thing, that it reacted to the seasons, and to the temperature of morning and sunset, but in the church there was always a sort of diffuse warmth that guaranteed the wood a steady perfection-and Roberto reflected on the notion of diffuse warmth a man of the north might have, for he himself was growing cold in this clarity.

The musician played for him the first melody twice more, and said it was entitled "Doen Daphne d'over schoone Maeght." He refused any offering, touched Roberto's face and said, or at least Roberto understood him to say, that "Daphne" was something sweet, which would accompany Roberto all of his life.
Now, on the Daphne, Roberto opened his eyes and, without doubt, heard coming from below,through the fissures in the wood, the notes of "Daphne," as if it were being played by a more metallic instrument which, not hazarding variations, repeated at regular intervals the first phrase of the tune, like a stubborn ritornello.
He told himself at once that it was a most ingenious emblem: to be on a fluyt named Daphne and to hear music for flute entitled "Daphne." It was pointless to persist in the illusion that this was a dream. It was a new message from the Intruder.
Father Caspar had taught him how to set in motion: he heard always and only 'Daphne,' because he had not learned how to change the cylinder; but he was not sorry to listen hour after hour to the same tune."

Well well well, fellow early music freaks, with the Semiotics core group on our side, how can we lose?

That's my story and i'm sticking to it.

In Santa’s Face

The AP reports the following militant act of a Christmas Resistor in Montana.

MISSOULA, Mont. (AP) - A college student accused of shoving a pumpkin pie into the face of a shopping-mall Santa Claus has been charged with misdemeanor assault.
Clint Westwood, 22, said he "lightly smooshed" the pie into the man's face Friday and shouted, "What do you think of that, Santa?"
Westwood, a drama student at the University of Montana, said he videotaped the encounter and plans to include the clip in an upcoming film.
He said that after the pie ruckus on Wednesday, he expected to approach Santa for a signature on a film-release form, but police arrived first.
"It's a good thing he didn't wait around, because I think Santa would have laid him out," said Sgt. Travis Welsh of the Missoula Police Department.
Westwood said he and companions had waited for a girl about 15 years old to finish sitting on Santa's lap before the pie hit his face, "but then we just decided it would be funnier if she was still sitting there."

Although the college student appears to be an annoying person I probably wouldn’t want to know, I somehow get a chuckle from his blatant attack against Santa Claus. I imagine there’s a lump of coal in his future!

It is also interesting that he expected the Santa to sign a release form. I guess he thought the brilliance of his artistic statement would be obvious. Oh, the struggles thatt he true artists among us must deal with!

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.