Category: Musings

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The 2nd ammendment doesn’t grant the right to bear arms…

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It is supposed to insure it.

I found an interesting analysis about the 2nd amendment a few weeks ago. The analysis states that the language of the 2nd is straightforward and unambiguous.

It is assumed, according to this analysis that citizens living under the constitution inherently have the right to own arms and that right is not granted by the 2nd amendment but is protected from government interference by the 2nd amendment.

The analysis is far more detailed and can be read in its entirety here.

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So without thinking about it too much, I sent the link to an acquaintance on Twitter.

He was, as always embattled with one of the gun control advocates from one of the groups like Moms Demand Action, or Everytown for Gun safety. This analysis made his point and he sent it to the gun grabbers.

Progressives

I’m always surprised by the nasty comments from the gun control crowd. For an “enlightened”, “Progressive”, “Well Educated”, group, you’d think their vocabulary would have a bit more depth.

Nonetheless it got me thinking about the logic the gun control folks are using.

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Some of the gun control people absolutely believe that guns should be removed from the hands of people because of the harm some guns might cause.

That led me to this thought;

“By their logic, I could advocate bringing back Eugenics Laws because one of their descendants might be responsible for killing a bunch of people.”

Their logic is just as flawed about guns as mine is about descendants.

You can’t know a gun is going to hurt someone any more than you can know a descendant is going to be a criminal.

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There is no family on the planet that doesn’t have at least one criminal in the family tree and no family is immune from producing criminals.

I could as easily make the case that preventing people from breeding is likely to be equally beneficial to society and the planet in the long term, as removing guns.

After all, fewer people sucking up resources burning fossil fuel, etc. would be better long term to combat global warming.

I’ve considered invoking the Zardoz paradigm where the primitives were given guns so that they’d war amongst themselves thereby keeping their numbers manageable.

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I don’t think that would add anything useful to the debate other than to offend the fem-nazis by forcing them to view a half naked, hairy, violent, Sean Connery.

Humm… Might be worth it after all!

I wonder all the time, why the “Moms Demand” and “Everytown” groups aren’t also teaching gun safety. I believe that there are too many guns to confiscate, even if I believed that line of illogic. I believe instead, that teaching children gun safety would save more lives.

I absolutely believe the fewer people in the general population who have knowledge about proper handling of, and behavior around guns; the more likely gun accidents become.

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For me its simply pragmatic. If you teach gun safety you can’t go wrong.

The educated gun control folks reject that kind of education. These are the same people that seem content with censoring other knowledge as well.

These folks are content with not teaching children via Chemistry Class about dangerous chemicals in the home. In spite of the fact that accidental poisoning is common.

They’re offended by locker room nudity, but not extremely suggestive nudity & sexuality in movies. They’ll decry playground fights as unacceptable, but will show DVD’s to their children depicting bloody fights and dismemberment.

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Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating censorship any more than I’m advocating gun control.

I just wish these groups were consistent in their logic.

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Ahhhh That felt good!

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Sometimes trying to do work for friends is just not a good idea. I always feel guilty asking for what I’m worth and because I feel guilty I don’t ask.

The practical result of this little mind game is that I do good work, but always end up being taken advantage of a bit. You know, $80 keyboards, and $40 spools of cable add up. But I just gave the shit away…

That’s a problem that I’ve got to get over. Part of it will be the absolute certainty on my part that I am worth every freakin penny I charge for whatever I do.

I need to make sure as well that I’m billing for everything that gets left behind as part of the job. “OH, your keyboard is broken… well it can be replaced for $20 or you can have my really nice $80 keyboard for $80.

I’d been asked to take a look at some data and see if I could present the material in a better way. I said, “Sure” without even thinking about it. 

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That was mistake number 1. I should have thought about it, I know these folks and I know how one of them thinks.

Mistake number 2  I shouldn’t have offered to do anything until we’d discussed MY PRICE!

It’s about time that I stopped being a charitable organization. My Price was never discussed and I find that really odd given the circumstances.

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Mistake number 3 was that I should have called a halt to my doing anything when I wasn’t getting cooperation gaining access to the data I was supposed to evaluate. Instead I got directed to an incomplete website and was sorta left with nothing.

Mistake number 4 was not calling an end to the whole mess when suddenly I had a deadline to finish. I still hadn’t been given the materials I’d requested to make the evaluation in the first place.

In fact there had been an email wherein I’d been told that my friends had been sidetracked for several weeks. I took this to mean that they really weren’t committed to getting this little project off the ground.

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In this particular case, I’ve got other clients that are PAYING and know what the heck in general they want and are willing to work with me to deal with questions that come up.

You know what? Cash talks!

I just threw in the towel on the undefined unestimated project.

Sure I’m leaving money on the table, but you know what? I think it was going to be a never ending, a.k.a never satisfied project.  

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I’m cutting my losses, and calling it SKOOLING!

I feel pretty good about it. Now I don’t have this weird undefined thing looming over my head. It’s helped a great deal with my ability to focus.

I’ve moved on to a challenging project where I can see the $$ at the end of the tunnel and I’m learning something new too.

 

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It’s been an interesting week…

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Though not without its price. I’ve apparently caught a cold or flu. I feel lousy!

Monday, we realized that the Pompeii exhibit was closing on the 11th of this month. We’d been meaning to go see it and for some reason thought it wasn’t going to close until the end of Jan. OOOPPPPSS!!!

As things turned out there were tickets available for Tuesday, and we got in to see the exhibit. The only problem was the number of people who were stopping in front of each of the items in the exhibit then listening to the prerecorded message thingy while crowding in, to completely obscure the items being described.

There was a time when children and people in wheelchairs were given room to get close, so they could press their noses against the glass.

Those days are gone! Folks you’re totally on your own. I had several really rude FEMNAZIS, (based on their attire, complete lack of courtesy, lack of personal hygiene and ample stink-eye toward any and all males,) actually shove their damn iPhones in front of my face so that they could take pictures. 

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They were afforded this opportunity because I was maintaining space between myself and the display cases, allowing children to press their noses against the glass!  

Had I been thinking I’d have snatched the phone(s) out of their hand(s) said, “Thank you” then walked away. These women were handing me the phones weren’t they? 

Nonetheless, I enjoyed the exhibition. I’d prefer to see Pompeii and Herculaneum “In Person” and perhaps someday I will.

I did find the exhibit a bit daunting simply because there was a ton of people in a very confined area. Picture the 405 in LA or I-10 in Houston, or the Holland Tunnel in NY, at 5PM. You know, a whole lot of people going absolutely nowhere!

I didn’t bother to take any pictures. To get decent quality you’d have to be able to get to the exhibit itself (or shove your camera phone in front of someone else) then angle the camera such that the glare from the overhead lights reflecting off the cases wasn’t obscuring what you were taking a picture of. In other words why bother trying to take photos yourself when professional photos of all the pieces are available online.

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They had a VERY TAME representation of a brothel that they also allowed you to bypass lest you were easily offended. Honestly, there was nothing, and I mean NOTHING in that brothel that was more racy than you’d see any night on TV.

I expected polished alabaster or marble phalluses that had been used as sexual toys. The only representation of phallic art was a horny little fertility god, who had a small penis growing out of a larger erect penis. BIG DEAL! (I can’t locate his image at the moment.)

This statue of what looks like a satyr having sex with a goat on the other hand, would have warranted a “Caution Parents, your children shouldn’t see this!” warning. However, this statue wasn’t on display in the LA exhibit.

I would have thought the casts of the bodies would have been far more disturbing, “Mommy, will that happen to us?” especially for children living in Los Angeles.

With the pointed explanation that earthquakes preceded the eruption of Vesuvius which then destroyed Pompeii, I picture that being of more immediate concern to a child than some goat thing wrestling with goat. 

Pompeii Necklace

The glasswork, farm tools, cooking utensils, coins, and jewelry were impressive. The jewelry was beautiful work. The tools and cookware were as common and comprehensible as anything in my kitchen or garage.

FYI, the LA version of the exhibit was very minimalist.

I know from photos, reading archeological reports, and generally being interested in both Pompeii and Herculaneum that there is a surprisingly large amount of well preserved artifacts from both sites.

At a guess, I’d say the LA exhibit was far less than 1% of the artifacts recovered and catalogued.

Looking at the artifacts on display at the Field Pompeii exhibit, it seems  that for some reason LA didn’t put out all the artifacts that the Italian authorities provided. Perhaps this subset of artifacts was due to space restrictions. I’m somewhat disappointed, given the significance to archeology of this particular find.

One thing that was really interesting is the stark contrast in human achievement afforded visitors to the California Science Center.

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After spending 2 hours patiently waiting for people to move along so that we could see the Pompeii artifacts, we found ourselves in a section of the museum dedicated to space. Apollo, Gemini, and a wide variety of space probes were well represented. But the crown jewel was the Endeavor.

One thing that might have been particularly interesting would have been to place the Pompeii exhibit in the Endeavor’s hangar. The contrast underscoring how far we’ve come, the skill of our hands, and our capacity for achievement might have provided food for thought.

For me exhibits like Pompeii are touchstones. Reminders, that our technologies may not have made us “better” only more technological. At our core we’re still humans seeking solutions to everyday problems and dreaming of the next horizon.

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What makes one reality better than another?

Horse

I dream a lot. Sometimes even when I’m supposed to be awake.

When I have recurring dreams I tend to pay attention. Those are usually the kind of dreams where I’m trying to give myself advice. If I listen, that advice is pretty good.

Then there are dreams that are so real that when I wake up it’s as if I was living another life. For want of a better term, visualize a Matrix like reality.

What really gets my attention are dreams that are, both recurring and Matrix-like. Lately I’ve been having one of those dreams.

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This dream is either loaded with meaning or I’m living another life someplace else. I suspect it’s the former, but can’t help hoping it’s the latter. If this dream was/is another reality I think I’d like to stay there. It feels like I have a chance to get it right, if I somehow could stay.

It’s winter. There’s a lot of snow on the ground and I’m checking a fenceline. I look almost like I do now, maybe a bit more weathered. I’m wearing a stetson just like the one I have, but it’s beat to hell. It looks like it’s seen more than a few seasons outside.

There’s a noise behind me. It’s a good sized chestnut horse. I know his name instantly, and I notice he’s a bit skittish looking to the east and a line of storm clouds. I calm him with easy familiarity and he settles. This action feels like a dance we do often. Usually, its about him wanting a lump of sugar from my pocket, he knows I’m a soft touch. I know he knows, and he knows I know.

Winter Scene

Today is a bit different, this squall line is heavy, and there’s winter lightening in it. The wind is rising and every once in a while I can hear the rumble of thunder. I nuzzle the horse, “Come on Mac, lets finish up and get back home. I’ll turn the heater on in your stall.” I mount up, the horse continues a slow walk allowing me to inspect the fence from the saddle instead of trudging through the snow.

We walk for a while, then I notice we’re near the abandoned house on the property. The house is steep roofed, built solid and is at least 100 years old. When I bought the property I chose the other house to live in, because this place is so close to a busy road.

Snow is starting to fall. I see what looks like movement through one of the windows of the house. “Great! Squatters,” I think.

“Mac, we’re going to have to make a slight detour then I’ll get you back to your nice warm stall.”

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I tug the reins slightly toward the house. Mac’s not happy about it but he does as I ask. We get to the house and I put Mac under the roof of the back porch. When I walk through the door to the place I’m met by an astounding sight.

The squatters have a full-on business going in here. They’ve knocked out all the walls they could and turned the lower level of the house into a wide open space with sellers stalls in it.

Out front toward the road is a wide parking area. There are cars and trucks and all kinds of people selling all kinds of things. A lady offers me a cup of coffee for only 7.99!

I tell her and the rest of these people that this is my property and they all need to leave. I feel a little guilty about it. But come on! Shouldn’t I at least be getting a little rent? Then I notice there’s power here. I didn’t connect the electricity to this house.

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I stomp through the front door and out to the road. There, at the edge of the property is a brand new power relay. Nice shiny new transformer, a new fence surrounding the unit and bright coppery connections at the top of the insulators. Obviously someone is paying for this, I wonder if it’s me, and I just haven’t gotten the first bill. Everything I’ve seen looks like this is all new and these people have recently arrived.

I go back inside the house and ask to see whoever is in charge. I’m directed to some punk who smells of weed and who tells me they thought the house was abandoned.  Since the house needed people and they needed a place to live it was like a match made in heaven so they moved in. He’s telling me I shouldn’t be upset. The power company was really nice connecting the house to the grid, they said they’d send a bill later.

I asked him about the fence that they cut to gain access to the property, meanwhile I’m thanking my lucky stars that I didn’t just turn the heard loose into this pasture and decided to check the fence first. If I hadn’t, I’d have lost the whole damn herd.

Summer Field

What I get from weed boy is more bullshit about no fences and that the house needed people. I realize I’m getting nowhere with this dumbass. I’m pissed off because this is exactly the kind of shit I moved out here to avoid.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, I have just enough signal to call the sheriff.  I’m going to make this his problem. Then I’m going to get on Mac and go home, we’re probably going to get caught in the storm at this point and his nose will be out of joint for days.

I press the call button…

Suddenly back in my bed. The sun is shining warmly through the bedroom windows, I can see the bright green of the vegetable garden and beyond it the barn. I’m freaked out, I jump out of bed throw on a pair of flipflops and walk out to the barn. Mac is half asleep in his stall. I can hear Lucy barking at the cows in the pasture, she’s probably making them do cardio, the cows must be just thrilled with her this morning.

I think Lucy’s the bossiest dog I’ve ever had, she’ll be up here soon demanding her breakfast. I open the barn door to the corral. Mac meanders out into the sun, and starts his morning routine. I smile, it’s like he stretches and warms up before the start of the day. I put his breakfast in the trough and make sure his water is fresh.

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The morning sun is comfortable on my skin and if it wasn’t for the work that I need to do around the place, I’d stay naked all day up near the pond in the north pasture. The thought brings a smile to my face.

Lucy comes padding up to the porch, all tail wags that I’m up already. She goes into the house through her doggie door. I grab the door handle…

I wake up here, in this bed, I’m sweating in a panic. I feel like I’ve travelled, and that I’ve lost something. I call for Lucy, I don’t know at first where I am. Sunny, my golden retriever, jumps up on the bed. He’s looking at me with the concerned look all retrievers get when their “people” are upset. I get a nose lick from him, then look at the clock.

It’s after 12PM. I’ve slept for 13 hours.

I pull some sweats on and hustle it to the slider, both dogs run down the stairs gratefully. I feel bad that they waited so long. Usually one or the other will wake me up but for some reason today they didn’t or couldn’t.

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There’s no mess to clean up. They come back inside bouncing and wanting their treats. I give them more than the usual allotment to thank them for being patient with me.

I flip the coffee maker on and over the first cup of coffee wonder at the reality of the dream. Or the reality of this place. Scent, sight, taste, sensation all were equally vivid and “real” in the dream. Even the weirdness of the dream within the dream felt “real”.

The strange part is that I’ve dreamt about the house the squatters were in before. I’ve seen the fence, the property, Mac the horse and Lucy. I have memories of being at that place and having a completely different life there.

Creek

I have equally “real” memories of being here.

Is this what some of the Native American tribes were describing when they said their dream life was just as real as their normal life?

I notice a couple of things between the realities.

Here, now, I’m a technocrat. There, I have technology, but my life is more physical.

Here I live in a town and while it’s not LA, there are people around me. There, I live alone except for the animals.

Here, my view of the world is defined by what others have built or let me see. There my view is defined by nature, I see sky, sun, trees, mountains, and fields, I don’t see humans. Obviously they exist, but as a rule, in that life I know solitude.

My first cup of coffee is done, I’m awake and the dream life is fading.  As I wake up more and this “reality” settles in, I wonder if I’m just wanting to return to the places where I was truly happiest. Secret places from my childhood that were green, and alive, and where my future spread before me. Back to the places where turning left, or right on a particular day could’ve changed the entire outcome.

I can’t get over the feeling that I’ve lost something.

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I’ve been feeling Compressed

PADI 2014 Oct 12

No, not as in diving compressed, (although I could use some underwater time). Any Divers out there wanna get wet? [Thanks to PADI for the nifty photo]

My compression stems from issues in my life.

As I’ve mentioned before, I share internet with the next door neighbor. Generally this isn’t a problem,  they’re using an old Windows based machine that I suspect is rife with malware. This doesn’t really affect me, except that when that machine logs onto the network it sucks up pretty much all the available DSL bandwidth.

For the non techies… The internet gets really slow.

Most of the time, even that doesn’t bother me unless I’m streaming a movie or something. But it reminds me that I’m not alone, and someone else has the ability to affect my life through my own niceness.

Then there’s the ugly assed fence which focuses my vision on their back yard, making me to be completely unable to ignore all the kids stuff, trampoline, monkey bars, various toys scattered about, and the pile ‘o junk stuffed in the corner.

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This fence also makes me feel that I have no privacy because it’s a constant reminder that there are kids there, even when they’re not out screaming, squabbling, or using the trampoline to jump up above the fence to ask me what I’m doing out on my deck. I can’t look past it, god knows I’ve tried. The 7ft tall monstrosity is THERE  protecting the children from… what? The occasional wayward hiker?

Then there’s the ceiling fan in my office. You see, the neighbors apparently put up a new ceiling fan in their house, and they left the unit’s code set to default. (Lots of new ceiling fans have these nifty remotes that allow you to change the speed of the fan and / or control the light in the fan.)

The problem is that when you put one of these fans in, you really should choose a new code other than the default one. Guess how I found out the electrician that built this house hadn’t bothered to change the code?

You guessed it. The great fan war started this summer. There are three neighbors that could possibly be close enough to control my office ceiling fan. One house is under going major remodeling. Since that place is gutted, I scratched them off the list. The other neighbor isn’t likely to have made any real changes, since she’s cold all the time. Which leaves the next door neighbors!

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Dammit! They’re jacking my internet up, have destroyed the view, have left me feeling like I’m having to accommodate their kids, “Asked” that we hose down our back yard every day during a drought while letting our plants die because she was pregnant and her nose was too sensitive, and finally…

Because they don’t want to figure out why their new fan isn’t working quite right, I’m the one that has to get up on a ladder with a screwdriver and a spring hook, (a spring hook looks a lot like a dental tool its sharp and pointy with a slight hook at one end. Great for flipping tiny little switches.) to manhandle 70lbs of ceiling fan to change the code to something they’re not using. 

But then it continues…

Once I’ve got the fan issue fixed, I think, “hey its time for me to rearrange the office” and so I begin that process only to find that my other half has systematically occupied every single open space in both closets, the filing cabinet, and a substantial portion of the basement with… for want of a better term CRAP! 

There’s no way for me to put my stuff out of the way or reorganize my stuff because his stuff is literally everywhere.

SO after grumbling about living with the equivalent of a 13 year old packrat, LOUDLY.  I start whipping through my shit and tossing anything that isn’t nailed down and functional. 

But the whole time I’m thinking, why am I the one that’s adapting to the situation AGAIN. 

I find myself thinking, “Maybe I should just pack whatever shit from this house that I want, and that will fit in my damn car and that will be MY space. Perhaps my life will be easier if I just allow the forces in my life that are conspiring to compress me into a tight little space, win. Then everyone will be happier and I’ll finally have some peace. Maybe I should sell every vehicle I own, buy a pickup truck with a tonneau cover (I don’t like camper shells) and be a true nomad, wandering towns and highways randomly. I’ll stop in interesting places do piece work for cash then move on. Maybe I should become ’That Guy’, the stranger, the scary dude in the corner of your local bar. ”

Then again maybe all this is just another way for the universe to tell me “Its time to move on.”