The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ―Edmund Burke
funny Darn it! I tried to insert a kewl widget linking to a site called Politifact. It is great stuff! You have got to visit that thing. I’m bookmarking it among my horde of news sites.
Anyway, for some reason the widget went up cattywampus. Sorry if you dropped by and saw a weird phenomenon. Apparently either the widget code or this theme’s Sidebar 1 function is acting up. Oh well.
WhatEVER. Check out Politifact: it’s Snopes for the political sideshow.
So here’s why I’m mighty glad that by temperament I’ve resisted the Cloud. Apple’s iCloud is having outages hither, thither, and yon, all over the world: L.A., San Francisco, all up and down the East Coast, around the Midwest, in England, Europe… Lovely.
Apple works to funnel users into iCloud, as Google would like to get all its users’ data into functions like the clunky GoogleDocs and Microsoft is forcing people to pay monthly to use Office on a subscription basis, extracting enormous amounts in excess of what its programs should cost. I’ve been clinging to my resident Word 2007 for Mac and will until there’s simply no other choice but to move to something else. When that happens, though, the “something else” may be Pages, at which point I probably will close down my editorial business.
We’re told that Pages will track changes in such a way as to make them visible in Wyrd, although as of 2012 (when the feature came out), it left something to be desired. I happen to prefer Wyrd’s “compare documents” feature, which ultimately produces the same result as “track changes” but without the instability and consistent crashes. With any luck, though, by the time my copy of Wyrd has been disabled by planned superannuation, Pages will be functional for my purposes. If not: retirement!
In any event, I surely do not want my clients’ documents (or my own) stored in the Cloud. Anyone’s Cloud.
As we speak, Apple users complain of presentations locked up in the nonfunctional iCloud that they can’t use for upcoming events, about e-mail locking up in the classic Apple mode (you get a message that your password is invalid; changing your password causes all sorts of chaos for you).
Worse yet, people’s iPhones are affected: one guy “restored” his phone and, because the Cloud was (still is) down, lost everything he’d loaded into the gadget. Ooops!
Imagine what happens if Google’s cloud goes down. All those Google Documents are suddenly out of reach. Presumably Gmail is rendered incommunicado. And you are rendered…out of business.
My paranoia extends even further, to the point where I would just as soon not make it any easier for the Corporate Shadow Government to spy on me. Sooo…between my personal craziness and the fact that there are some practical reasons to want to keep your data on your local disk, I’m compelled to opt out of the Cloud.
The thing that’s weird is the folks complaining about data locked up and programs not working…Apple Fanboys, I mean…who show no indication that their files are backed up in Time Machine, which acts like a sort of local Carbonite. Backs up your stuff pretty much as you type. Backs up all your applications, too. On your own external hard drive, not on someone else’s server.
As a long-time news junkie, I read the news of the day several times a day, thanks to the handy-dandy Internet and a long string of links to favorite suppliers. Lately, though, the daily news makes me feel like I’m watching a spider chewing up its prey. Half the time it’s not informative; it’s not helpful: it’s just stress-inducing.
We have the late gorilla episode, for example: the one where the four-year-old says “MOMMY, I’m gonna go swim in the pool inside the gorilla exhibit.” She says “No, you’re not,” and turns her attention to her cell phone and the four or five other children present. Result: rare lowland gorilla male is executed; child is rescued with minimal injuries (only, as far as anyone can tell, by the grace of God and the skill of a sharp-shooter).
Reading the comments on this story is enough to curdle your stomach. Some armchair pundits think the zoo should be put out of business — matter of fact, all zoos should be put out of business. Other self-righteous members of the peanut gallery think the mother should be prosecuted. Some of the uglier commenters believe the child should have been left to die, given that lowland gorillas are teetering on the verge of extinction and human children are a dime a dozen.
F’r chrissake. That was a CHILD trapped with a wild animal. No matter how magnificent and endangered the animal, we humans owe our first allegiance to humans. And no, it does not matter whether the child’s mother needs an IQ transplant.
Then we have Stephen Hawking on the Trump Horror Show. That a lying, clownish demagogue could achieve nomination by one of country’s two major parties suggests something is wrong with our political system; if he gets into the White House, it will prove our system is broken. While I’m not crazy about Clinton, I fear that an avowed socialist couldn’t win against Pluto the Dog, much less against a guy who riles up all the long-standing resentments against the liberal agenda…some of which are justified: the bureaucratic bullshit, the tangled and patently unfair tax system, the dictatorial political correctness, the death of the middle class…all valid complaints.
If the conservatives run a third-party candidate, they’ll split the Republican vote and lose the election to Clinton. That will be a good thing in that it foils Trump, but it may not be the best thing for America. The best thing for America would be for the Republican party to nominate a qualified candidate and let the best man or woman win.
Almost daily, we’re reminded of the ubiquitous American distrust of and hatred for anyone who is different from oneself. One of the gorilla reports elicited a comment from a guy who openly said the kid should have been sacrificed because he was black and the mother would pop out another half-dozen between now and 2026. No shame, there! Nor is there any in just about any part of the media when it comes to people over the age of about 45. CBS MarketWatch, for example, tells us as a fact that “Older adults have a ‘toxic combination’ of high self-confidence and low financial literacy.”
Then we have this astonishment: A woman answers the door to her apartment, expecting to see a 12-year-old relative. Instead, she finds a rapist who barges in and proceeds to beat and strip her. She manages to reach her husband, who comes running and thrashes the thug to death, a fitting end for that particular sh*thead. And what does he get for his trouble? You got it: prosecution. It’s hard to avoid wondering if he would have been charged were he white…
The homeless population is growing older as the homeless mentally ill age and no concerted nationwide effort is made to get them off the streets.
Consumer spending “enjoys” its largest jump in six years. Dude! Mr. Pollyana, sir! It’s not that we enjoy spending. It’s that everything costs more and more. That would be, presumably, because there’s no inflation, hm? And because junk products made in China don’t last longer than about seven years, max. Most of them, far less, come to think of it.
Home prices are rising faster than expected. This is good news? “The economy is supporting the price increases with improving labor markets, falling unemployment rates and extremely low mortgage rates,” David Blitzer, chairman of the S&P index committee, said in a statement. “Another factor behind rising home prices is the limited supply of homes on the market.”
Yeah, uh huh. Zillow thinks my house is worth almost as much as it supposedly was at the height of the disastrous housing bubble. Interest rates are at rock-bottom and it’s not all that hard to get a loan. How many of those loans are covering collateral with real value? And how many of them are loans against air?
Oh, God. I’ve got work to do.
While I’ve been diddling away my life editing and indexing other people’s golden words, Connie the Queen of the Big Rigs has crossed the continent twice, accompanied by Silver, her faithful (and slightly neurotic) sidekick. Let’s catch up with her in New Mexico.
There is the flag, apple pie, and US FOODS in Albuquerque. This place is about a mile away from the evil Ben E Keith company.
Look at the size of their lot!!!
When I was assigned to drive this cool truck, I was surprised to find there wasn’t much in the way of shelving in the bunk. Specifically, next to the bed, there is no spot to put an alarm clock, hand lotion, phone, book or whatever. ACK. Was I supposed to put my stuff on the floor???
I hadn’t much time, but quickly found 3 small boxes and a couple of empty food containers to strap-tape together. I McGivered myself a shelf!
Silver is doing her imitation of the Flying Nun. Noticed the angst on her face because I left for 5 minutes to get the paperwork. Poor kid. So emotional.
Found my notes from my first visit to Ben E Keith.
I was passing by the ultra cool Whiting Bros sign on Interstate 40 in New Mexico today. There is no place to park to get a decent picture and I wondered if I might be able to find one online. And I did.
It was on this particular stretch of highway a few weeks ago that I noticed a little lumpy thing on Silvers neck while I was scritching it.
At first I thought it was my imagination. I kept up with the scritching and there it was again. I am not a fan of icky bugs, fungus, boils, rotten anything, etc. But for some reason, ticks creep me out the most.
I took the first exit off the highway, made a u-turn on the side of the road and proceeded to search frantically for the offending parasite. I could not find it!! I kept up the search for another few minutes (what if it got loose in the truck for Gods sake?) until I heard a voice say, “Ma’m, why are you parked here? Do you know you are blocking the frontage road?”
I looked out the drivers side window to see who this person could be and …. surprise! It was a DOT officer.
I could not think of a plausible lie so I just said, “Well, I’m looking for a tick and I can’t find it?”
I guess I was hoping he’d say, “Well, in THAT case, you just take all the time you need little lady. I have dogs myself and I truly understand your plight.”
But he didn’t. He wasn’t impressed in the least and suggested very strongly that I move along and get the ass end of my trailer out of the road. Oops.
§
Crap. I just went into the Little America truck stop in Flagstaff to wash my hands. Gone less than 5 minutes. Silver was in the back lot looking for me.
Now to bed. Gotta get up at 3AM to drive into Phoenix.
Missed Connie’s earlier adventures?
It’s never too late!
Flying Low across the Country
El Paso
Along the Border
Eastward Bound
Have been almost incommunicado for the past month or so: underwater with clients’ work. Everything happens at once, and then nothing happens. 😀
At last most of it is shoveled off the desk. I’ve only got one task left to do just now, and I may not even do that today. I think I’m going to loaf all day, swim in the pool, watch the plants grow, and after dark, maybe take the dogs for the walk I was too lazy to manage while it was still cool this morning. Or maybe I’ll drive them to the park and let them walk around in the shade.
Choir has gone to sleep for the summer, and so that opportunity for socializing and fun is on hold. Friends are searching out new restaurants — Honored Client introduced me to one last week where I hope to convene some friends in the next week or so. Fave Writing Group meets the first Saturday of the month — last month I was too maxed to drive over there, and the month before that I had to take work with me to keep plugging away during the meeting. So looking forward to June’s meeting, when I’ll actually be able to pay attention to what’s going on! Attended one (1) meeting of Toastmaster’s and have wanted to go back, but breaking free in the middle of the day has been out of the question.
And…in all the paying frenzy, I’ve neglected the Saga of Connie, Queen of the Big-Rigs!
This morning I collected a bunch of her new adventures, and whenever I get out of the swimming pool this afternoon will compile them into posts for you.
Watch this space…
How do you like the new pot I picked up yesterday at the local family-run nursery?
Kind of a pretty little guy, isn’t it? The blue plate under it is an old, chipped dog dish that I had to retire from duty lest one of the pooches cut her tongue on it.
It’s another of those Mexican Talevera-style imports that Home Depot gets now and again and overcharges royally for. The nursery in question tends to be expensive — if you were in Mexico, you could buy these things for a few pesos and the maker would be happy. But HD is more so.
I love Talavera. That spider plant was sitting on the counter in a much smaller pot in which it volunteered, years ago. When I cleaned out and around the flowerbed, I found whatever had been in the little pot was long gone, and this critter was living in it. So I brought it inside, plopped it on the kitchen counter, and forgot about it.
Friend was over here the other day and noticed the thing. These plant-lovers can spot plant abuse in an instant. She tsked over the dry soil and the yellowing leaves.
{sigh}
So I promised to repot it.
Driving around the city yesterday, I found myself on the road that passes the nursery and thought, As long as i have to put that plant in a new pot, it might as well be a Talevera pot, which i will love. i will not especially love another cheap terracotta or plastic pot from HD or Michael’s.
Zip! Into the nursery. Coveted every plant on the grounds. Made my way to the back part of the lot where the Talavera pots are piled high. And lo, there was a whole collection of…uhm…blue-pot specials. Prices were not on “special,” but the pots were striking in their minimalist color scheme: blue and white.
Grabbed this; resisted the temptation to buy another gaggle of plants; raced on about my business.
I love the blue, because my son bought me a beautiful blue bowl for Christmas, which is on display atop the counter at all times. Also, the decorative tiles in the Mexican tile counter are predominately blue. So I suspected the pot would be perfect. And it is. IMHO, that is.
If you live in Phoenix or if you visit, and if you also happen to love Talevera pots and kitsch, you must visit Whitfill’s. They have several locations around the greater metropolitan area. And unlike certain competitors, they do not hawk landscaping trees like they were peddling used cars. 😀
In other news… The client’s book has gone to press. He seems pretty pleased, and as we scribble is bearing several copies to family members in Seattle. The index is probably in the can — I hope the last few ditzy issues were finished yesterday. All that remains on the table is the current Chinese dissertation author’s magnum opus, and helping to get her through an unusually stressful period. This project is driving her bats, and she has herself all keyed up, poor kid. With any luck, though, she’ll get through it.
If and when the last of the current work tsunami recedes, my plan is to kill some more time writing a new Fire-Rider novel and also writing a nonfiction book about cats.
Cat books sell exceptionally well… As for fiction: I have neither the skills nor the patience to peddle that stuff, and have decided to regard those scribblings much as I regard blogging — as a kind of hobby. I’ve got some fun new ideas for FR, one of which includes an invasion of cryptids.
Inspired by Honored Client, I may also compile a little genealogy of my family and put it together in book form as a gift for my son, since it’s so easy to create PoD volumes. The other day I stumbled upon a lead on my father’s purported Native American forebears: his eldest brother was living on the Chickasaw Nation in 1900. Today the tribal rolls [my fingers are determined to make that roles!] are sprinkled with the family name. So they may have been Chickasaw rather than Choctaw.
Maybe not, too. By 1900, more whites than Indians lived on the Chickasaw, plus the two tribes were closely allied and a lot of intermarriage went on between them. To find out more, I’ll need to pony up some cash money to get into the pay-to-peek genealogical websites. But it could be worth it.
If I could learn more about that guy and wherever the hell his parents came from, creating a genealogy with some narrative would be pretty easy, because one of my cousins on my mother’s side converted to Mormonism and committed that side of the family history to the Mormon archives.
It’s 10 a.m. It’s already getting hot, and, finding myself out of food, I must fly to the grocery store before getting down to work. And so, away!