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.
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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.

Why I Blog

"Rat", a character in "Pearls Before Swine" must be reading my mind. Here’s the real dope.

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

A Susato Thanksgiving

We had the traditional Thanksgiving at my uncle’s place in Santa Rosa . They had 25 people this year.

I brought the cranberry relish, one batch of the Stamberg variety (see the next blog entry), and one batch of plain old whole berry sauce. Otherwise we just ate and had a good time.

The highlight of the evening for me was that my cousin-the-professional-bass-player and I played a set of Tielman Susato songs from the 16th century. As the galliards and pavanes were flying, the electricity went out, so we finished our playing by candlelight! In my life, that’s about as cool as it gets.

We saw the usual suspects from Los Angeles and northern CA.

We took the mountain road route on Thursday morning, since the interstate was a mess. Lots of scenic and winding two-lane roads. We enjoyed the scenery, but DMIL forgot to mention that she gets carsick on mountain roads. So, most of us enjoyed the scenic drive.

We stayed over Thursday night at the Sandman Motel in Santa Rosa. We’ve stayed there every thanksgiving. The breakfast area is always full of protestant missionaries and their families. Strange.

Cranberry Relish – Try This Recipe Sometime

Susan Stamberg has pushed her cranberry relish recipe for years. I finally made it this year, and it kicks ass. I have been thinking about making this for at least 10 years, I wish I had tried it sooner.

The relatively small amount of sugar and the horseradish make this relish more savory than sweet. The color is truly shocking. Stamberg compares it to pepto bismal, it reminded me of whipped up strawberry jello and dream whip. All credit for the recipe goes to Susan Stamberg.

Mama Stamberg's Cranberry Relish

2 cups whole raw cranberries, washed
1 small onion
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons horseradish from a jar ("red is a bit milder than white") I used the white horseradish, and it was fine.

Grind the raw berries and onion together. ("I use an old-fashioned meat grinder," says Stamberg. "I'm sure there's a setting on the food processor that will give you a chunky grind — not a puree.")
Add everything else and mix.
Put in a plastic container and freeze.
Early Thanksgiving morning, move it from freezer to refrigerator compartment to thaw. ("It should still have some little icy slivers left.")
The relish will be thick, creamy, and shocking pink. ("OK, Pepto Bismol pink. It has a tangy taste that cuts through and perks up the turkey and gravy. It's also good on next-day turkey sandwiches, and with roast beef.")
Makes 1 1/2 pints.

When Financial Industrial Complex and the American Dream Collide

I watched a football game last Sunday. I noticed a repeated theme in the commercials from the Financial Industrial Complex, formerly known as the insurance and brokerage industries. What I heard seemed striking when compared to the insurance industry that employed me in the 1980s.

The Financial Industrial Complex of late identifies itself as a resource for “wealth management”.

In an article about U. S. wealth and income statistics , I found this interesting story:

“If you're not parked near the top of the ramp, you're of little or no interest to financial services firms and financial advisers. There's no money to be made at these levels. Last year, a handful of Wall Street firms told their brokers they would no longer receive commissions on accounts holding less than $50,000. This effectively tells people with nano-Numbers to get lost. But for the Wall Street firms, there's gold on the floors above. The greater the household assets, the more fees and transaction costs can be extracted from an account. The result is a flood of advertising that captures a lifestyle so gloriously affluent it's enough to make everybody feel poor.”

This is a major change in these industries from their founding values (at least those values presented through their Public Image machinery) which pretty much stayed in place from the late 19th through late in the 20th centuries.

Financial services are promoted by telling a “corporate story”, rather than playing up specific benefits of the contracts and services available. This indirect approach is driven by State and Federal laws which restrict the ability to promote investment or insurance contracts on radio or television. The advertisements present a very broad story, limited to (1) customer identification, (2) identifying the sponsoring Financial Services Firm, and (3) an extremely vague notion of the benefits the customer can anticipate by giving money to the Firm.

The 20th century story was (1) the customer is the American family. The narratives often followed a “journey through life” story, following a WASP family from cash strapped starter house life with babies through comfortable retirement surrounded by adoring grandchildren; (2) the advertisement usually characterized the sponsor as the friend and protector of the young family whose hands are firmly placed in the bootstraps by which they will pull themselves up; and (3) if the young couple behaves like good WASPs, and associates with the firm, they will be rewarded with a satisfying and abundant life.

Well, as we moved into the 21st century, the story has changed. (1) the customer is already sitting on a pile of money, which we politely call wealth; (2) the Financial Services Firm is a very powerful and impersonal corporate edifice, large and powerful beyond description; and (3) if you bring the Financial Services Firm into your life, the pile will get bigger and bigger.

Just another way of saying, “if you are not already rich, we don’t need you”. Besides, the middle class is totally so tiresome.

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

A Very Stupid Day

I can only describe yesterday as a very stupid day. Thanks to Google and the proliferation of stupid blogs, I am assured that I am not the only person who has the occasional Very Stupid Day.

The day started with discovering that the ceiling-mounted fluorescent lights in the kitchen aren’t working. I recalled having an electrician in to install the fixture, but I couldn’t find any records. I dragged Kathleen into the search. After about an hour, I recalled that the installation I remembered was in our house in Milwaukee, where we haven’t lived for about seven years. So goes the first Very Stupid Hour of the Very Stupid Day.

DIY Step 1 – Replace all four tubes in the fixture. Drive to the local hardware store, find the right tubes, drive home, remove old tubes (fluorescent lights rarely can be fixed by replacing some rather than all of the tubes). Testing fluorescent lights can be tricky, because the mountings for the tubes (appropriately called tombstones) are pretty touchy. So I inserted and reinserted the tubes’ contacts several times. No luck still just getting a flicker. So went the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.

DIY Step 2 – Having determined the problem was more than blown tubes, I went back the internet to find instructions for the next steps. I looked at several sets of instructions which for the most part contradicted each other, so I had to figure out a “consensus approach from about three DIY websites. So went the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.

DIY Step 3 – Examined the wiring for visible bad connections. I removed the new tubes, and opened up the protective plate covering the ballasts and wiring. I am sure the protective covering is designed in some part top keep people like me away from the inner workings. HAH, I showed them! I looked at the wiring for about 10 minutes, gently pulling to test wires for faulty connections. All the connections looked OK to me. I wrote down the model numbers etc. on the ballasts, since after this test, it appears that the ballasts (really power transformers) are probably the problem. So goes the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.

DIY Step 4 – Went to the home improvement big-box stores to figure out what to do next. Went to Home Depot, where I learned that (1) if I replace the entire fixture, I will need to special – order to get a fixture the same size as the current fixture. This means that replacing the fixture with a more reasonably priced fixture will require repainting the kitchen ceiling, or promising myself to never look up in the kitchen, and (2) ballasts vary in cost, from about $45 to $120 in total for the two ballasts I probably need to replace. Replacing the ballasts could cost more than replacing the entire lighting unit. Given that I don’t have the tools or the “know-how” to be sure of where the problem is located (power source versus ballasts versus tombstones), the next step will involve attempting to install a bunch of expensive components that I am not sure of how to select the right component, or how to install it correctly, without electrocution. I also visited Lowe’s to reinforce this conclusion. I realized that it was after 1:00 PM, so I stopped at a local taqueria for a burrito. I ate too much, but with little real consequence. So goes the next two hours of the Very Stupid Day.

DIY Step 5 – I called Oleg the housepainter, who is our link into the world of reputible local Russian immigrant contractors (probably another Ivan or Vlad). He will call back today with a referral for an electrician. It was a very stupid day, because I could have just called Oleg at the beginning of all this, after the new tubes didn’t work.

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

The Beginning of the End

As is the case in much of Sacramento, our neighborhood has a lot of rats. Sometimes we can see them running on the telephone lines, like people in more wholesome environments see squirrels and chipmunks. I have learned to tolerate the rates, since we only seem to get a rat in the house once or twice every five years. When we get rats, they quickly succumb to traps baited with peanut butter.

However, a new twist has been added to the rat drama. FLEAS! Our neighborhood has been full of fleas this summer. I nearly contemplated giving up sandals. I have had to use Advantage on our indoor-only cat. The vet said fleas can jump onto the cat through screens when the cat sits in the window. The advantage is working great, I flea-combed the cat and she looks clean. Before using the medicine, the flea comb brought up lots of flea dirt and on live flea. We’ll re-apply the Advantage next month, and hopefully denying the inside-the-house fleas their nutrition for 2 months should take care of the problem.

So, it’s rats and fleas. Somehow, this doesn’t sound very good. Isn’t this how you get a bubonic plague outbreak? Just remember this, so that your last words gasped from your bubo–swollen lips will be, “I read about it first in Hangininsac.” That’s all I ask of you.

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

Like A Hole In The Head I Need This, Oy!

Dana Milbank, a columnist for the Washington Post had a somewhat tongue-in-cheek column about the American Enterprise institute (AEI) forum discussing claims of superior Jewish intelligence.

At first I thought this was some kind of joke, perhaps the Washington Post had a Halloween tradition like April Fools Day in other regions. Not so, Mr Smarty Pants Big Shot! The American Enterprise Institute, those wonderful people who brought us neoconservatism has published a book explaining claims of superior Jewish intelligence. Abraham’s Children discusses the link between observed above average IQ scores in Jews and some theory that this proves that Jews are truly a race apart and possibly the Chosen People after all. Jonboy appears to spend a lot of time and energy attempting to reinvent the concept of pure race, whose only imaginable use is a pseudo-scientific justification for racism. THE AEI website promises us this book is based on “breakthroughs in genetic genealogy” (sic). GENETIC GENEAOLOGY, WTF? No doubt they also used historical creationism, statistical numerology, and astrological astronomy in their study.

I did a little research to see what background Jon needed to manage “breakthroughs in genetic genealogy” (sic). Turns out all those PHD Students devoting their lives to academic studies of genetics and Mormons studying genealogy are wasting their time. Our boy Jonjon, according to his own website has no education outside of journalism and philosophy. His work experience appears to center around television production and writing books justifying old-time racism (e. g., Jews are smart weaklings, blacks are well suited to athletics, but not intellectual pursuits (see his previous book “Taboo”)).

The fact that these books, beyond being taken seriously, are usually best-sellers provides a very good example of the true cost of weak science education in our schools. However, the AEI’s publications and other odorous outbursts seem to get taken pretty seriously. After all, when you have John “Yosemite Sam” Bolton as your fellow fellow at the AEI, how could you be wrong?

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

"Fat and Ugly" Rumors from the Blogosphere

Bad news for Disneyland fans. The It’s A Small World ride will be closed for about a year for retooling. From what I heard this afternoon on NPR, it appears now that Disney is admitting what the blogosphere has been saying for days - The boats are sinking under the heft of our fellow citizens.

Apparently, the boats were designed for couples weighing a total of 300 pounds or under. The engineers figured on 125 lbs for the woman and 175 for the man. In addition to larger couples, I guess they didn't anticipate Disneyland's gay-friendly atmosphere either (think about two 180 lb athletic guys in a boat).

The NPR report claimed the ride has been plagued with delays when the ride stops for a boat bottomed out on the flume. Heh, heh, bottomed out.

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

PRESS RELEASE - From Hangininsac Tower, 1 Cyberpunk Plaza, Cyberspace

Hangininsac's senior management has completed its planning retreat.

We have unananimously decided this blog will envision clear objectives and develop and implement plans as carefully as I do in my own life. Why demand excellence when mediocraty will do?

However, in recognition of "National Writers' Month" in November, as well as scarcity of suitable paid employment, I will attempt to produce several blog entries each week. OK, so it's really "National Novel Writer's Month". Like heck I'll write a 175 page novel. I figure I will keep working on the blog, and write my masterpieces once this blog has established me as a cult hero master of cyberspace. Hell, if Wesley Friggin’ Crusher can pull it off, what the heck.

Coming to Wisconsin

The
Airport
Terminal
For regional flights
O'Hare red hot reflux in crop
Plump and blond nasal cell phone intonation patterns
Still a couple of past due bleach blonds, Californeeya uber allis, it is said
Nothing new after all these years
Wisconsin preview
in O'Hare
Airport
Lounge.

Hanging Loose and Lying Low

I am sitting in what is hopefully the ending days of a nasty cold. I feel a little distanced from the world, even though I stopped taking cold medicine today.

I really have to push myself to do anything. In my process of transitioning to slacker mode, I start to get worried that I’m acting like a depressed person, and then I remind myself about the cold. Hip Hip Hooray, I’m just under the weather, rather than nuts.

As I write this, I am listening to Frank Zappa. There’s a line from “200 Motels” I just love, “You go work for Zappa, and he makes you act like a creep. After that, no one will take you seriously. In this business, you gotta play the blues, or sing in a high voice.” Something about this reminds me of some of my work experiences.

Warning – whiney complaint follows:

This entry may get posted late, and there will be no hyperlinks, since we are having recurring phone line problems in the neighborhood. A couple of guys just showed up to look at the lines into the house. They look like complete idiots, given that several houses have problems, and they are in my back yard looking at the line to my house. One of the guys has a knit Raiders stocking cap pulled down low. He reminds me of Dumb Donald from the old Bill Cosby cartoons. The good news is that when I called the phone company to complain about the phones not working for nearly a week, they credited two months worth of free service to our account. Something similar happened in the area about 5 years ago. We lost phone service every time it rained for about a month. What a pain.

End of whiney complaint (unless I find something else to go on about)

I finished reading pretty good East Indian novel, “A Delicate Balance” by Mistry. I chose this books since the parents are reading it for their book club discussion next Monday, which I can attend. Also, I enjoy East Indian family dramas. This book is quite a bit darker than Vikram Seth’s stories. Just about every character comes to an unhappy ending. However, I found the drama to be gripping, in a mawkish way as I found myself turning the page to see what new misfortune was coming next.

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

Department of the Dead

Zombies! Slow-minded, innumerate zombies!

As I’ve stepped away from my Government job, I feel like I somehow escaped before the authoritarian-pension-worshipping zombies ate my brain. There’s a story here. I see a struggle of punks versus civil service zombies. This has probably has been done already.

Speaking of zombies, check out this. Even though I didn’t see any reports of zombies infiltrating civil service through adherence to an anti-innumeracy cult, this website is pretty strange. It is somewhat comforting that I am not the only person seemingly obsessed with zombies. I looked through several pages that were prosaic at best, but the concept is a winner.

I can’t find anything about innumeracy half as interesting as Zombie World News. Everything I see treats innumeracy as an accident. What if innumeracy is actually the desire and result of a religious fundamentalist cult, like the biological science illiteracy that forms the basis of creationism? After all, numerate mathematics relies on several unproven facts called axioms. Being unproven, these axioms are no more fact than the theory of evolution. If God wanted His people to hold these axioms as true, they’d be revealed in the Holy Bible, rather than from the mouths of a bunch of bed sheet-wrapped pedophiles of the ancient world.

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

I Prefer Not To

I Said “I prefer not to”, just like Melville's scrivener, Bartleby.

I finally left my job last Friday, after months of silently fighting the urge to gnaw off my leg and escape. I won't bore or scandalize everyone with the sordid details, however I am glad to say I left them wanting more of me, and should it be appropriate, I can probably return. At this point, I struggle to find a rational reason to do that, but you never know what the future holds.

I pop music terms, I think Bob Dylan
said it all.

“Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles”

I am glad to have this behind me for now. I am taking this week off from my own self-defined obligations. Next week I’ll start contacting people to attempt to work on a future for me. I spent Monday and Tuesday catching up on things around the house that I have been putting off, like record keeping and minor fence repairs. Today I took a long bike ride and goofed off the rest of the day. Tomorrow I will make bread and stock the freezer with beans and rice, and talk to some people about tutoring. I would like to start tutoring a few evenings pretty soon. I like earning some walking-around money while I get my act together.

The bike ride was great. I rode downtown and briefly visited some folks from the former work. I ended up having to go into the office, which was a mistake. One of the people I wanted to see was stuck in a “Drill” and couldn’t get away (for a change). It’s amazing when people are stuck on all sorts of immediate and urgent business, but they will stop and gab for twenty minutes. Next time it will be lunch or break at a safe distance. I felt like a freak, and some people who simply don’t get it begged me to come back in November or December. That was embarrassing. Aside from the office visit, the bike ride was great.

I am visiting the relatives in the old country later this month. That’s a great thing to do because none of us are getting younger these days. After that, my future starts.

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

Add Romance to your Life - Play Recorder

I Am Tired

I have been feeling pretty tired lately, not sleeping very well lately. I didn’t do much this weekend, beyond the normal stuff; laundry and grilling meet for the week at the DMIL’s house. I need to up the activity level or else it is tough to find bloggable experiences.

We saw Escanaba in da Moonlight on DVD! It kicked ass! After all those years in Wisconsin, I finally understand what deer hunting is all about. I recommend this movie to any current or former Northern Midwesterner who wants a big yuck. There is no subpopulation better to showcase the surreal nature of life up north than the “yooppers” (that’s Michigan’s Upper Peninsula residents for you coastal types). One of the main characters is crazy Jim McGonahy from Menominee! Menominee is where my Mother started her childhood, until Grandma and Grandpa decided to become urbanites and moved to Wausau Wisconsin’s sprawling metropolis. I have always suspected the move to Wausau was motivated by its proximity to Chippewa Falls, site of the Leinenkugel’s Brewery. In another odd twist of fate, I was born in Wausau, although I never lived there. As you drive north, Wausau is at the point where the landscape changes from fields to woods.

Dis is da year for da Packers (OK, probably their year to disappoint even more than usual)! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The Revolution is not Being Televised

But, don't worry, Barbara Ehrenreich has the full story here!

Mass civil disobediance by protesters who refuse to "behave" by not making their mortgage payments. Between Sacramento and Stockton's leading roles in the protest, I proudly feel close to the center of the revolution.

POWER TO THE (soon to be homeless) People!

Modern Life What We’ve Become

Two household events this we’re dealing with this week leave me wondering, “what is going on in our country?”

First, on the lighter side, I received the music books I ordered last week via Express mail. Express mail is apparently the normal way to send anything through the US Mail. Regular mail is obviously too time-consuming. We are surely in a no-holds-barred hurry to get whatever we ordered.

The book I ordered, Der Fluyten Lust-Hof, is a reproduction of a second edition released in 1651, about 356 years ago. I can’t help but ask myself how strange it is to make the assumption that after 356 years, I need the book on Saturday rather than the following Thursday. If I look at his from just a few steps back, it is absurd. However, I was very happy to get the book yesterday, and I jumped right into it. I guess that makes me complicit in our shared twisted values.

Gold!

Kathleen and I started the morning with a short walk in a nature preserve by the American River. We saw the normal assortment of unidentifiable birds, mule deer, jackrabbits, rattlers (since moving here I have put behind me the urge to pick up every snake I see), frogs and turkeys (avian and mammal variety). We enjoyed the crisp and cool weather this morning.

History buffs may recognize the American River as the sight of John Sutter’s gold discovery that changed the course of history by bringing over 30,000 lightly armed Americans to Alta California in 1849. Although Sutter’s Mill is near Coloma, several miles uphill from Sacramento, some of the same rocks rolled down to the Sacramento Valley over the millennia.

What, might you ask, does this 19th century history review have to do with a walk in the riparian wilderness?

When walking near the river, I occasionally break a fist – sized quartz rock, to see what’s inside. Proving that even a stopped clock is right once in a while, I immediately saw yellow reflections of sunlight when I smashed a rock today. Very small glints of mineral sunshine scattered through the fracture . . . this . . . means . . . GOLD!

I carefully slipped the fractured rock into my pocket, mildly reminiscent of Virginia Woolf. However, I stayed on dry land. After all these years here, I finally feel connected with California’s cultural history of get-rich-quick schemes. Maybe next time I’ll find a floodplain real estate development. Who can tell, in this land of golden opportunity?

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