My Lunch - Sometimes Precious Just Happens

I threw some of this week's refrigerator bean salad on some fresh tomato and cucumber wedges. I sprinkled a salt and herb mixture and drizzled a little wine vinegar on top. This took about a minute to put together.

Who knew it would look so precious?

Also made a sandwich from leftover grilled sirloin with a little feta cheese a some salad greens. It was good but it wasn't pretty like the salad. Actually, since I used the end of a baguette, it looked quite manly in a grinder kind of way.

Yesterday I tried a steak, tomato, cucumber and salad green sandwich. That was way too much slippery stuff in one sandwich. Hence, the salad today.

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

Laughter is Power

If I can't laugh in your revolution, leave me out of it.

A friend sent me this video from prostests realted to California's Proposition 8. This is funny in a sweet way and a well-wasted 3 1/3 minutes that you'll never be able to get back.



I like this and it encourages me.

Picket sign hacking. I love the way these folks use use signs to make the opposing picketers look like even bigger morons than they look like without help. I see that and wonder I think, "Obvious, Brilliant, why didn't I think of that?".

The supporters of proposition 8 (meaning those miserable marital scrooges who say "bah humbug" to toher people getting married) have no sense of humor, and at least those willing to hold signs in support of proposition 8 apparently have no sense. What kind of knob just stands there when his protest becomes what is obviously (that is obvious to anyone except the completely humor impaired) the host upon which a powerful viral campaignis feeding.

In order to comply with Hangininsac's fairness doctrine (stated thusly; The Fair ain't always fair) I present evidence that some protesters opposed to Proposition 8 (in support of universal marriage rights) are pretty dopy.

My favorite was the couple with the matching signs; His/Her snoring is the only threat to our marriage. Ain't that the truth.

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

Sunday Night Football . . . or Shakespeare . . . or Sermon

Last night I gave into temptation. Against my better Judgment watched an NFL Exhibition Game . I couldn't resist watching the Vikings at San Francisco. We watched the first half of the game while we prepared dinner (I BBQed and DW and DMIL boiled some corn I picked up at the farmers market and husked Saturday.

Both DMIL and I wanted to see what the Forty Niners had to show and what's up with Favre.

First the Forty Niners:

Alex Smith looked pretty good in the passing – dominated opening drive that resulted in a TD. Lots of nice short yardage completion. This is encouraging.

After the first drive, the Niners offense spent the evening trying to establish a running game that just wasn't there. I wasn't really surprised, since Gore and Westbrook were both absent, and the backfield was filled with no-names. What was a bit alarming was the San Francisco's offensive line's complete inability to open anything even resembling a hole. SF's tackling was terrible. If Vince Lombardi's mantra that “football is a game of fundamentals, blocking and tackling” still means anything in the NFL, the Niners are in trouble. Again.

This leads in to The Sermon. Reverend Goo Goo Googly Eyes (aka Coach Mike Singletary) was miked during the game so we could hear his little motivational sermons. Google Eye Mike apparently prowls the sideline looking for the players that messed up the last play so he can tell them to try harder next time or go home.

Wow, Singletary is a Football Genius. Tell the players to try harder. What insight! What creativity! Why hasn't anyone thought about that before? Man, this is great. Once the players actually try, we're assured a Super Bowl Victory.

Sarcasm aside, I think a professional sports team needs more than a booster. Especially in the Head Coach position. The players are directly supervised by position coaches who report to the Offensive or Defensive Coordinator who in turn report the the Head Coach. Seriously, I don't think the Head Coach needs to make motivational speeches. The Head Coach needs to figure out how to get the numbers in the W column.

Yeah, yeah, I know, Lombardi used that work ethic thing and he was great. But, let's get real. If Lombardi had produced nothing better than the 8 wins Singletary chalked up last year, he'd be long forgotten.

My message to Mike Singletary

Do whatever it takes to get the numbers in the W column. Spare us the motivational sermons until you prove yourself by delivering the Ws. Do what you tell your players – shut up, get to work, and deliver. Everyone will line up to hear your Protestant Work Ethic sermons the two weeks before you lead your team to the super bowl. You know that because you've been there before. Until that joyous January, please spare us.

The Vikings

Like almost everyone else who doesn't make herculean efforts to tune out the NFL, I was there for the next act in the ongoing NFL Players production of “To Favre or not to Favre”. I like a drama queen in shoulder pads as much as the next guy.

We didn't really see much on the field, where Favre took to the sidelines after three unsuccessful downs ending with a body-slamming sack. The Vikings offensive line showed almost no protection at all. I wish Favre all the luck in the world. With a line like that, he'll need it.

Three downs and out wasn't all we got to see of Favre (as if). Halftime treated us to an absolutely nauseating toady inter view of Hamlet-in-a-Helmet. How many times can you hear Al Michaels akd Farve “How it feels to be such a great guy that you came out of retirements for you teammates who love you so much they can't live without you?” No wonder why Favre needs Prilosec. Who wouldn't after listening to so much reflux-inducing crap.

On the lighter side, Redskin Nation is whining that Favre's deigning to grant a halftime interview saved us from Mike Shanahan. A silver lining, at last.

Since I've taken to foisting Happy Tails cats on people every Sunday morning, I'll miss most of this season's football. I'm not very concerned.

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

Fish Stories, Weirs and Ladders

I had a great fish encounter today. I took an 18 mile bike ride from my place to Jim's Bridge. I am trying to start from home instead of driving the two miles to the nearest trail access. That adds a little more than 4 miles and about 20 or 30 minutes to the ride. When I rack up the bike on the car and drive, it probably takes just 5 or 10 minutes less than riding from home. As long as I can avoid streets with serious bike-crushing traffic, I guess that's OK.

I talked to a guy who was standing astride his bike watching the river flowing under the bridge, I could see a narrow stream of unusually dark and murky water flowing from the upright just under the water-gazer.

I asked him what he was looking at. He pointed out a lot of big chunks of algae,sticks and other river junk floating on the dark stream. He said he thought they must have just cleaned the fish ladder at the Nimbus dam upriver from us. He probably really meant the weir, but that's not a big deal.

He said, “The fish will come soon.” He was absolutely right. I saw several fish swim under the bridge, a few feet below the surface. These were giant fish. They looked like sturgeon to me. Big and ugly. I expect all really big fish to be sturgeon, since the American River Salmon have almost disappeared over the last 10 years. I remember hiking by the river in late spring of 2003 and seeing at least two or three dead spawned salmon every mile. I don't miss that,but their absence seems unnatural.

My erstwhile buddy claimed they were giant bass. He called them “Stry-ped bass” in his unusual Southeast accent. In any event,these fish were huge and looked pretty ugly to me. It was cool watching the fish swim by. They were as big as these monsters. They really were.

Anyway, it was another perfect morning by the American River.

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

Who Knew Chinese Army So Awesome Cool?

Omnipotent Chinese Army Orchestra and Choir play Michael Jackson Tribute soon most dominant Internet meme from most awesome nation's army.

You hear it here first, hokay? I'm not making original posts these days,so this what you get now.





That my story I stick to it.

Enough Eat Pray Love Already

Now, here's a movie I'd pay to see:

Thanks to MeritBadger

Looking in an Honest Mirror

Maxine Frost provided this illustration that, IMHO showcases the evolution (or de-evolution?) of Grey America better than about anything I've seen lately.

You can see more of Maxine's illustrations on her Crazy for the Composers blog . If you are nice to her, you might someday see your requested composer drawn with insight and a very large head.

You can listen To Maxine's radio show by selecting King FM's "98.1..." Channel from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM Pacific Time weekdays (DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, only do this if you think your computer is running well these days). Evergreen seriously uses the "More Tunes Less Talk" approach to radio. The music is pretty varied, so you're likely to hear something you've never heard before.

In addition to hearing some nice music, the King FM Player will test your computer for system stability. I ma not passing this test very well. You've been warned. The player has been making my computer crash today. Time to restart and see what happens.

I first "met" Maxine through the Simple Living Network, when we exchanged a couple of postings or something like that, a little more than a year ago. Our blogs appear to be linked by some dadburned confounded interweb contraption that I don't understand.

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

Addendum- after restarting (remember when we called that rebooting?) everything is fine. I think it was my MacAfee firewall that was giving my computer fist. Once again, I shake my fist at these dadburned confounded newfangled interweb contraptions. Back in my day. . .

American River Bike Ride on a Perfect Day

Today was a perfect morning for a bike ride. When I started out at about 9:30 AM, the sky was clear, humidity was low, and the temperature was about 60 degrees with a very light breeze. It was a perfect morning.

I rode on the Jedediah Smith Trail by the American River for what was about a 13.5mile round trip. I drove to a trail head today, I just didn't feel like putting the extra three miles on streets it takes to get me to the trail without fighting speeding, coffee drinking, texting dimensional transmogrifiers (oops,I meant drivers).On a bike they are dimensional transmogrifiers when they convert a three dimensional cyclist into a tow dimensional cyclist. BTW, I picked up that term from Fat Freddy's Cat in a comic book in the late 1970s.

I took a few snaps of the ride.

This first shot is a typical scene of what you see directly in front of you as you ride on the trail. This landscape is generically known as a riparian forest, because it is a forest along the banks of a river (so, mister smarty pants wikipedia contributor, why not river-ian forest?) Lots of strange oak trees and browned out grass. This would not be a good place to toss out butts.



After a short distance, the trail veers a way form the river into some empty prairie. The land was never built on because it is very prone to flooding. Too bad that reasoning was not enough to stop building in the North Natomas area of Sacramento. Anyway this little bridge is cute.



The next sight is Soil Born Farms, a small organic farm run by hippie gardeners who are slowly figuring out farming. I visited them last Sunday with a group of bicyclists including some bicycle advocates and a local chef. We had a tour. I was really most impressed with two things. First, they use their fallow fields for grazing sheep. I haven't walked among grazing sheep for many years. The sound they make grinding up the grass is unbelievable. The second amazing discovery was in their shop.The sold bacon scones form a local bakery. That's right, I said bacon scones! I had one and it was good. The organic vegetables they had were less impressive,but the potatoes looked excellent and I could see what looks like a great crop of winter squash starting in the field. This could be the place for the Great Pumpkin's Second Coming.


The trail veered closer to the river for a short time. This is a sometimes popular swimming spot at a bend in the river. Unfortunately,it has also proven to be an occasional drowning spot. The American river flows to us from mountains about two miles high and has all sorts of strange little currents. This is not a swimming hole for people who can "almost swim".


The next sight is Rancho Cordova's Hagan Park. This is an ordinary large city park (ball fields, duck pond,etc.) except it has the biggest model railroad I've ever seen. They give free rides to kids on the weekends.



The trail climbs up a placer. Early gold miners formed placers when they re-routed the river and dug all the boulders off the riverbed. The placers still stand when they dumped the rocks that they hoped were sitting on top of all that gold. Most went back home broke.





The trail provides plenty of overlooks of the river. This view is probably similar to what early wagon train folks saw during a lot of their journeys.



This short shaded stretch is one of may favorite parts of this ride.


I use the area around Jim's Bridge as a turning point. It's a nice place to stop for a drink of water. The bridge was built as part of mining operation long ago. This bridge appears to be invisible on the interwebs, so you'll just have to take my word.


I can stop and have a drink of water here, the view to the west is beautiful.


Looking east reminds me why I escape to the bike trail in the first place. The wide and but-ugly suburban Sunrise Boulevard. Sunrise Blvd Connects two of the less attractive Sacramento suburbs, Rancho Cordova (aka Repo Forclosure) and Citrus Heights (aka Syphilis Blights). There is some hope looking east form Jim's Bridge. You can see a great pedestrian bridge about one half mile up the river, in the more fashionable (at least in their own eyes) feral chicken-filled suburb of Fair Oaks.


Since I was making great time, I stopped to enjoy some wild blackberries.I call them The Sacramento Treat. They are way better than Rice-A-Roni. Take that, all you San Francisco snobs out there!


You might notice a blurry light brown object in the background of this picture. Turns out that or something near it was the rear end of a rattlesnake. I didn't notice it until it sounded off while my hand was reaching in for the ripe black berries under the red ones. I decided to leave that bush alone for a while.


Near the end of the return trip, I stopped to enjoy this scene, straight out of a Western Romance.

This was an hour and a half well spent.

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

The Margaret Mead of Flight Delays

This great article in Slate gives an anthropologist's view of what you can see anywhere there's a flight delay. This would even be funnier if it wasn't true.

A short excerpt,describing a couple of the tribal functions you might encounter:

"Prosecutorial Flight Ninja

Knows more than the gate agents. Berates them because they've been lying for hours about how long the flight will be delayed. He holds up an iPhone with notification from the Web site that the flight has already been canceled.

See Here Now! Man
A cousin of the fellow in the introduction of this story. He believes that the mechanical problem, personnel issue, or weather will be improved if he loudly proclaims his place in the universe."

This is a great read, and it would even be funnier if it wasn't true.

The Airline Boogie

I am working out a trip to Wisconsin for October. I can't quite settle on choosing a flight, since the all the flights are inconvenient. It's impossible to get from here to there without either dealing with a a 6:45 AM departure time in Sacramento or an arrival after 11:00 PM on one end or the other. I'll figure out something. Later. I'll just whinge for a while in the meantime. That tactic may pay off, it looks like fares dropped about $40 since yesterday.

All this talk about the joys of flying in what passes for our Modern Country made me think of Prague's Franz Kafka Airport. One of the best Onion News Network features ever. This is exactly what air travel feels like to me.


Prague's Franz Kafka International Named World's Most Alienating Airport

While we're on the subject, Mexicana Airlines just announced immediate suspension of its 11 Weekly Flights to Sacramento International Airport. That means there are now no international flights. Although these flights have been going to Mexico for only eight years, the local authorities have always called this airport "Sacramento International Airport". In the days before these once-in-a-while commuter jet flights to Mexico, the airport was known to local as "Sacramento Intergalactic Airport". Now, once again, we can use that awesome name with pride.

While we're on the subject of flight, we went to the Star Trek Exhibition at the McClellan (ex-air base) air and Space Museum. The exhibition was pretty fun, but no pictures were allowed.

The rest of the museum was the typical airbase museum, with a big lot full of old airplanes and bomb casings.

I posed for some people doing best Major Kong Pose I could.It probably looked something like this.




They didn't have any big nuke bomb casings, The nastiest most explodingest thing I found to ride was what looked like a two or three ton napalm bomb casing.

That was a disappointment, since according to the EPA, cleanup work in 2000 unearthed "one (1) 20-gallon drum, excavation of 480 cubic yards of soil, and laboratory wastes. Contents of one drum were labeled as containing plutonium."
Man, I wish I could have had my picture taken next to that.

Anyway, I will try to follow up and get the bomb picture.

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

I Am More powerful Than Clowns and Old Men

I am glad to report that I have finally succeeded in taking down both Col Sanders and Ronald McDonald. Sanders was much harder to kill. I also saved Pamela Anderson from her almost certain fate of becoming "part of an unhappy meal" .

I am talking about two insanely retro Mario Brothers- style games offered by PETA, McCruelty and Kentucky Fried Cruelty. I just get a kick out of these, the way they combine sick humor and earnestness. A few segments of the game poke fun at the Mario Brothers as well as some of PETA's stranger animal issues. These games haven't caused me to turn away from meat.

I added banners for the games at the bottom of the blog. Enjoy

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

Be Scared, Be Very Scared

I sent a friend directions to our place on Google Maps . I got a quick response of "what's all this about klowns in your neighborhood?" I took a closer look at Google maps for my neighborhood to find that, yes,Virginia, Google (the source of all knowledge and all that is good in this world) reports klowns in the neighborhood. Let's just prey to God they ain't from outer space and they ain't killer klowns.


View Larger Map

Move your cursor across the image to get a chill.

Well at least Megan's Law doesn't show any offenders too close to here.

You may be asking, so what's the big deal about klowns. Maybe you're thinking I'm an irrational fearful klown hater. Having grown up in Chicago in the 1960s and 70s, I know what evil lurks in the sick twisted brain behind all that greasepaint. Three words, dammit just three words; John Wayne Gacy. Who says klowns ain't scary?

Pogo John, the burger flippin' klown says so,that's who!

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

Sacramento and The Talk of the Town

Well, it looks like "dead-cow-gate" is still the top story here in Sacramento, Perhaps the region has found a new mascot. What better symbol could represent a region with over 14% unemployment,
tens of thousands of foreclosed houses, and a nearly bankrupt largest employer.

Sacramento Bee cartoonist Rex Babin summed it up pretty well.


In addition to pens drawing, lips are flapping. Perhaps the lizardlature will pipe in next week when they get back to town. People are pointing fingers at the security people who shot the cow. This makes no sense to me, since if the veterinarians could have done their job properly, security wouldn't have had to leave their donuts.

I still don't understand why this is a big deal. If the calf wasn't born at the fair, it would be somewhere like this.



And later it would look like this.


mmmmmmm, scallopini, aaaggghhhhhhhh.

I guess my point is, no matter what happens, a cow and calf aren't looking at a bright future. I say get over it.

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

When Goals Meet Non-Goal

I just read an interesting article in zenhabits.net. Zen Habits is one of the more popular blogs on the interwebs, In fact, the dead tree media even claims this is a “blog you should know”. Naturally, I had never heard of it until a couple of weeks ago.

The blogs author, Leo Babauta, is a guy from Guam who's spent a lot of his life on the west coast, and has recently moved to San Francisco. His writing style is out of this world. If E B White was alive today, he would approve. Actually, if E B White was alive and read much of my blog today, he'd probably be dead by tomorrow. Who has time for dead white men these days?

Up until his most recent post, Babauta has written books and blog entries instructing people how to establish nested goals (i. e., short term goals supporting mid term goals supporting long term goals) all in a Protestant Work Ethic inspired effort to help everyone improve themselves by focusing on the Important Things in Life.

Given that background, I was surprised and pleased as punch to see his most recent blog post. He has put forth a change in approach, now saying that “the best goal is no goal”.He looks at the limitations we might impose on our lives by allowing lives to be subservient to our self-imposed goals.

I can only hope that this many younger folks in America are able to come to a similar realization. I find it discouraging that some research has shown that “getting rich” is the predominant goal of most younger Americans.

I am not trying to moralize about this. My most pressing concern is that if “getting rich” is the goal, it's a sure thing that most will fail. This is simply because “getting rich”means having more than the vast majority of the people around you. In a roomful of highly paid executives, the person with the smallest private jet will be poor in his own eyes, at least until he leaves the room. Therefore, only a small minority can “be rich”at any time. Since outside of lake Wobegon, all the children can't be above average, most of us can't be “rich”.

Now the hippie type slacker who defines “being rich” by having a loving family surrounded by good friends has a pretty good chance of making it.

In soundbites, the lesson is;

If you want a good life, quit being a human becoming and start living as a human being.

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

For This? For This, I Left Wisconsin For Sacramento?

Today's big news in Sacramento:

Rampaging, Pregnant Cow Shot To Death At State Fair

Calf Didn't Survive, Fair's General Manager Says

Read all about it in the Local Sacramento News.

This is so wrong (or right, I'm not sure) in so many ways that I find myself dizzily trying to control my shpilkes that gets a hold of me at times like these. I'll probably miss something wrong with this, but here goes.

Wrong Thing Number 1:

In the words of Frank Zappa, “this doesn't happen here,things like this don't happen here,who could imagine it could happen somewhere like. . .”

This should happen in Wisconsin. This should not happen here.

This should happen in Wisconsin, where I remember weird stuff involving rampaging cows coming up in the nightly news right after the film from a barn fire. I think the most common phrase on the ten o'clock news was “No livestock was damaged.” Here in Sacramento, we're supposed to be about corrupt politicians and bankrupted treasuries. I always thought Wisconsin was the place where the cows run wild. Maybe all those commercials are true. maybe California really is the America's Dairy Land. Please, somebody, tell me it ain't so. I remember, almost twenty years ago, quietly walking across an English cattle pasture,and minding my own business. I felt inexplicably uncomfortable. After checking my shoes for abnormal prairie muffin crumbs, I looked over my shoulder to see a tightly packed crowd of about forty cattle following about ten feet behind, staring at me with their big stupid brown eyes. This gives me that same feeling. The insane cows are following me again.

Wrong Thing Number 2:

I was at the fair on Sunday. Despite the big cash box heist the week before, everything seemed on the up-and-up.

The high point for us was a llama that sweetly nuzzled our faces with a dry nose and surprisingly pleasant breath. Pretty good for a species that usually spits its cud at people.

We went to the birthing area, since no one can resist the lure of newborn piglets and calves. Hatchling chicks aren't bad either. We saw a pregnant cow who was reportedly about two days late as of Sunday. I fear it was she who rampaged this morning.

Rampaging cows and stalked by a field force of Fearless Fosdicks following rifle-jamming veterinarians sounds a lot more entertaining than teenage art contest winners and fried Twinkies(tm) on the midway. Given the proven abilities of Cal Exp Security, I am pleasently surprized a veterinarian or two didn't get shot along with the the cow.

We definitely went to the fair on the wrong day.

Wrong Thing Number 3:

We are supposed to be sad about this tragedy. A cow and a calf had to be killed. Don't mention that if they had performed successfully, playing the role of carnival freaks for the next week or so, with in a month or two their names probably would have been changed to Sir Loin and Scallopini. Don't mention State Fair's famous barbequed tri tip (that's a popular local beef roast for you mid westerners) sandwiches for sale just outside the birthing area. Seriously, these animals are bread and kept a live for our eating pleasure.

(Note to readers – they may have been dairy cows, but it's just more entertaining if they're bread for meat, and not really that much difference.)

Although I spent a few years being a vegetarian, I am not a PETA advocate. I do not think eating meat is an abomination. I view meat as food. I believe that morally enjoying meat requires us to accept that you kill animals to get the stuff. It makes me cringe when I hear parent tell their kids crap like, “pigs give us bacon”. They don't give us jack. We pull the delicious stuff off their dead bones.

I find it to be seriously disorienting to see people who eat meet crying about “how terrible this is”. I imagine having a rampage and getting fatally shot is a better way to go than the slaughterhouse routine. Perhaps I am projecting my feelings on the cows. Let me be more clear...I would rather be shot on a rampage than chained to a post in a feedlot, shocked with an electric prod, and given the slaughterhouse treatment. Maybe it's just an ethnic thing on my part.

I've rambled as much as I want to, so I must now say,

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

Everybody's Getting into the Act

Even Pig From Pearls Before Swine has figured out there's something amiss in the energy industry:




I love Pearls Before Swine. I have thought about getting this tshirt, but I'd never have the guts to wear it.

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

A Parable of Harpoons and Holes in the Ground

Long ago and not really that far away a great country was faced with a problem. They were threatened with losing a major energy source. This was a clean burning fuel that almost everyone used to light their houses.

Year after year, the energy companies reported more and more difficulty finding their oil. As sources nearer to the great country ran dry, the great whaling ships circled the globe in search of their oil-filled prey.

Whale oil was becoming more and more expensive every year. A growing great country needed an energy source that had the capacity to grow with the country. A dwindling source of energy would not do.

Other sources of energy existed at the time, however none were as easy to use as whale oil. Provincials in the country's southern plains were experimenting with a viscous and tarry black liquid that seeped out of the ground. When they could get the liquid to burn, it produced a lot of heat, along with clouds of black smoke that would never do for lamps. The supply of this petroleum seemed unlimited. The more holes the people drilled, the more this strange black petroleum liquid gushed.

The great country's government needed to take action. They knew the country needed more energy soon. There was a choice; would government policy support greater and greater efforts to pursue fewer and fewer whales, or would the government support development of new energy sources and technologies?

Possibly some argued that the maximum resources possible should be directed towards pursuing and harvesting more whale oil more efficiently. After all, whale oil was the only proven liquid energy source. Who could tell what that messy petroleum would be good for. Only a nut would want to burn petroleum to heat and light his house. That stuff stinks!

Others may have argued that the nascent petroleum industry was the way to a great future. Perhaps they saw the futility of spending more and more of a nation's treasure in the pursuit of a finite and dwindling energy resource.

In that day, long, long ago, the forward looking view ruled the day. Rather than providing subsidies to the proven but dwindling whaling industry, the government adopted several policies, including lucrative tax incentives, that rewarded investment and development of petroleum.

Everyone got lucky. Petroleum refinement technologies came online to make many versatile fuels, plus it turned out even the gases that leaked from the holes in the ground were an efficient and valuable fuel. As if that wasn't enough, petroleum's unique properties provided the basis for a chemical industry that revolutionized everyday life. “Better living through chemistry” was the mantra of the age.

The decades passed.

The great country's supplies of petroleum dwindled. In order to keep growing, the great country needed to scour the world for petroleum, not unlike globe-traversing whaling fleets of a previous age. Every year, explorers went further and further afield, drilled deeper and deeper holes. The price of fuel rose without relief.

There were some developments in new and untried energy resources.

By this time, after many generations of generous subsidies to the petroleum industry, the government could not find the courage to meaningfully subsidize the new frontiers of energy. The government made token subsidies to the new energy industry, while other countries leaped forward with bold initiatives. The politicians traveled the country to boast about their token programs that provided a few million dollars toward developing new energy sources, while subsidizing the petroleum industry with 10s of billions of dollars.

Other countries developed new and daring technologies while the great country's citizens sat home and watched it all on their giant flat screen TVs (manufactured by the very same other countries), wondering if it was their fate to remain a great country, or if they would fade away like the whalers of old.

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

Tomorrow The World

International Hanginininsac readership statistics show disturbing trends. Why doesn't anyone in Ireland read the blog. I can understand the lack of readers in China, since I'm probably banned there. I'm sure the Chinese leadership shakes in fear. I'm not sure what it is about Sub-Saharan Africa. I thought I'd have a lot of readers there, since I get email from Nigeria all the time.

This map shows readership over the last several months.
Anyway, what it is is what it is.

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

M C Escher stairwaysapoozalah

This is one of the coolest interactive lookie-loos I have ever seen. I just had to post it here.


Tribute to Escher in Barcelona

This is fun to play with for a minute or two.

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

It's been a quiet week hangin in Sac.

It's been a while since the last substantial post to Hangininsac.

I'd like to say I was just too busy doing all sorts of way cool and interesting things, but I'd be a liar if I did. The dreaded Sacramento summer heat finally arrived last week. Daily high temperatures over 100 degrees F caught me off guard after a thankfully mild spring and early summer. I spent a lot of the last 5 or 6 days languishing in the heat. Really hiding inside from about 11 AM to 8 or 9 PM. Even with the hot afternoons, it's still been cool enough at night to have open windows and fans.

The next six weeks are normally the worst weather of the year here. It's like January in Wisconsin. After that, It'll be September and if it's too hot I can feel more justified in complaining.

While wallowing indoors, I took some time to upgrade the little computer. The Netbook came with Microsoft Works, which, in addition to being named with an oxymoron, absolutely sucks. Word was not a reasonable option, since on grounds of principle alone, I refuse to pay more for a Microsoft program than was originally paid for the computer & its original software.

Open Office came to the rescue. I am writing this on open office at this very moment. I have used the word processor a few times, and I'm starting to like it better than Word. Open office rules. I'll have to find something that needs the spreadsheet. They even have an Outlook-clone misinformation generator.

(I am trying my best to no longer refer to Microsoft as The Evil Empire, since after Steve Jobs's almost embarrassing attempt to smear Consumer Reports in retaliation for their pointing out Apples embarrassing product deficiency, we now have The Right To Choose between two Evil Empires. I just love oligarchy capitalism. (Almost as much as I love using parentheses too much.))

My hack musician career has been taking off. My flute (really flute and low part recorder) trio has been invited to play at a “private concert” of the Saturday Club. The pressure is on, because I think the Saturday Club's expects high quality performances at these events. We're scheduled to play November 20, which is the anniversary of Mexico's 1910 Revolution. That's the one that wasn't against France and didn't happen 12 days before Syttende Mai. Anyway our second rehearsal sounded pretty good for the most part. I have a lot of difficult music to learn. At the onset, I was worried about being dumped because playing a super sized plastic recorder with flutes is kind of weird. The flute “kids” seem to think the ensemble sound is OK, since they haven't kicked me out. Playing music written for flute really drives home how much easier life is with all those extra flute and clarinet keys versus the seven holes you get on a recorder. My fingers are getting a workout. Maybe that will make my typing improve.

This would all have been a lot easier if I had just originally taken up flute instead of clarinet. However, in suburban Chicago in 1970, boys did not play flute. No uhuh, it just wasn't done. Clarinet was already dangerously close to the legal limit for fem-ness. Guess I was supposed to play trombone or something manlier.

I'm about talked out. Time to get back to wood shedding.

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