Adaptive Curmudgeon

Psst. I’ve got a secret. I’ve been doing cool shit off line. Crazy eh?

In our overly-connected world it’s inconceivable that a blogger would do his own thing and give (almost) no on-line mention. Right? Wrong! I wanted to enjoy the time to myself as I started a new “thing”. I have.

My little adventure was to “explore” 3d printing. I bought one about a month before Christmas. I did mention it, only once, as “My Outlandish Christmas Toy“.

I can’t overstate how much fun I’ve had. I was expecting a lot and got more than I expected. It was an extra-special fun Christmas. Sometimes one has earned a treat.

I dithered a bit because I’m a cheapskate to the molecular level. I worked myself up to it. I’m an adult and I’ve been sufficiently fiscally responsible that I’d literally earned it.

I just can’t overstate the fun involved. I remember as a kid thinking “someday I’ll be a grown-ass man with a checkbook and won’t that be awesome?”

It is!

I went apeshit with the thing. For 3 months straight I was printing this and that like it was my life’s goal to wear the poor thing out. (Which ain’t gonna’ happen, they’re more reliable than in the old days.)

My idea was that I’d wade through all the N00b bullshit and only write something up when I’d ironed out the details. It was a good plan. Then again plans have a way of not happening. I got sick. I’m still sick. I’m probably going to be sick for a little longer. Shit happens.

All that not-healthy time took away some inertia. I stopped experimenting and settled into a routine of sleeping much and grumbling a lot. It blew a month off my calendar and it ain’t over yet! (Don’t panic. I’m sick but not desperately so. If and when I’m “pining for the fjords” I’ll shoot ya’ a note.)

Then, to further change my plans, there’s been some changes with the technology. I feel an urge to address it. So here I am. Instead of the well reasoned, carefully considered, multi-part exploration of an interesting (to me) topic, which I’ve been planning since early December, you’re getting this. Life happens.

Technology grows in fits and starts. For many technologies there’s a “golden age” where it’s the most fun. I think with 3d printers that time is (roughly) now.

With all neato keen new things, it starts in the domain of the nerds, geniuses, crackpots, and early adopters. These are a special breed; hard core people who understand calculus, can properly define “anode”, speak Latin, and so forth. We owe these folks a debt of gratitude for making trails that’ll be roads for tamer/lamer users.

The early phases are a hassle. I remember 9,600 baud modems making local calls to bulletin boards. I did it a little bit myself. It was neat. But it was also a pain in the ass.

Then, times shift and the technology gains wider appeal as it “matures”. I can almost pinpoint the moment when “cyberspace” (as it was called then) went from “fringe nerditry” to “normal people stuff”. It happened gradually over many years but also all in one summer. I dropped off the bulletin board world and literally off grid (in a time before cell phones) and returned to a world that had popularized a thing called “browser” over the summer.

Nobody was paying attention. Because people are herd beings, 99% of America was wasting time all summer reading newspapers (remember them?) about OJ Simpson. Meanwhile a dedicated tiny sliver of humanity nudged unwieldy bulletin boards into “user friendly” browsers. It all happened while I was rambling about the forest completely disconnected from society. What were you doing in the summer of ’95?

The ensuing “golden age” is a time of peak amazement. Shit happens fast and it’s awesome. I can’t be certain, but I think right now is the moment for 3D printing.

After the golden age, the dipshits show up; normies break chairs, Karens pee in the corners, and people who were formerly too dumb to access the technology lower it to their level. Early adopters and nerds can do naught but slink away to better pastures. Right around ’95, slow crappy bulletin boards gave way to neat forums like Usenet, but it wasn’t long before everything turned to shit. It seems like only a few hours of “golden age” passed before Grandma was spamming you on Facebook and things were never quite as cool again.

Every technology has it’s own Facebook. You can’t stop it. You can only adapt. Bulletin boards blossomed into something awesome but now your TV is spying on you and a scorched earth landscape of lies smolders where reasonable political discourse once actually existed. By now smart phones have fuckwits cutting off their dick off and imbeciles attack Teslas because X in the last few years has less censorship than Twitter’s excellent mimicry of Soviet intellectual theory. And all I wanted was networked dissemination of knowledge.

Yeah… that sums up technology. Did I mention I’m taking a dozen random meds?

Where was I? Something something golden age? Right! 3D printing isn’t for everyone. Most people would prefer to buy cheap plastic shit from Wal-Mart than master the universe but that’s a them problem. I don’t have to live in life’s short bus. You don’t either. I’m slowly learning to make plastic anything. There’s a big difference between “you’ll eat what we shove in your face” and “I shall make my imagination a reality”. 

At some level, a 3d printer is damn near magic.

Only recently they emerged from the world of tinkery complex frustrating g-code. Bask in the now of having fun without needing to know all the details. Be aware it’ll sooner or later fade. I can’t buy a car with a stick shift because monkeys in my society can’t use clutches. I’m sure this will happen with filament and deposition. Don’t fret that it’s not forever. Just have fun when it’s a good time to have fun.

Some jackass with an MBA is right now trying to ruin it. They’ll load a perfectly good 3D printer with Siri, AI, spybots, social media, and monthly payments. They’ll limit filament choices to vegan… for reasons. They’ll scan everything you make in case it’s a copyright infringement. Some virus will make dildos explode out of the model jeep your making. It’ll suck, but not yet.

Which brings me to the thing that happened. I purchased a I purchased a Bambu Lab A1 Combo. (The link goes to Amazon, if you buy anything from the link I get a few bucks and it costs you nothing.)

The A1 is out of stock… probably pending a new 2025 printer release.

I got in at the right time. There was a pretty good sale. I was happy with the price. I like the device.

The A1 Combo is the right balance between “can do lots of shit” and “it’s a bitch to make it go”. So of course Bambu Lab is going to improve it. Will it be better? Who knows. It might suck. I wanted “sweet spot” not “finalized mature technology”. Ford’s Model T wasn’t perfect… but it was a sweet spot.

By the way the only difference between A1 and A1 Mini is you save couple hundred bucks and get a smaller “build envelope”. I thought that would be important but I almost never push the 10″ cube of the larger A1. I’d have been just as happy with the Mini. The A1 Mini Combo (with AMS Lite) is still available and I wouldn’t kick it to the curb.

With a smaller “build envelope” the A1 Mini is pretty cute. In retrospect, I haven’t needed the larger build envelope of the full sized A1.

But wait! There’s corporate douchebaggery afoot!

In December I wrote:

Bambulabs feels a lot like Apple. The machine is easy to use but absolutely bad in terms of privacy, just like that infernal cell phone in your pocket. Other printers may be more private. Just like Apple, Babmulabs wants to merge everything and you gain all sorts of convenience that way. I can monitor my printer from my cell phone! I can even launch prints from cell phone. I can pick from a bazillion free and (so far) reliable prints on the “makerworld.com” site. I see a cool thing, click on it, and boom it’s printing. The “nerd index” is greatly reduced. On the other hand, I can also see what’s in the background of the printer’s camera. I also assume the People’s Republic of China and the FBI know what I’m printing. There are things you can do about privacy but it’s not the default. For the Bambulabs “environment” just assume James Comey and Xi Jinping are watching the printer like creepy privacy violating perverts.

If a corporation can be an evil, rotten, spying, douchebag…. it will do so.

Such is the sudden yet inevitable betrayal of Bambu Lab. A couple months after I got it, they announced a new “software upgrade”. It might interfere with privacy between you and your property.

Because of course they did.

Everyone went apeshit. Because of course they did.

There are people in 2025 who do expect corporate fucknuts to behave with decorum. Why? How can they possibly think that way?

Anyway, the “upgrade” might, possibly, under certain circumstances fuck with you. It could interrupt sending files to your printer from your computer during that period of time when it is in the taint of the internet… the cloud.

Should I run around in circles screaming and shouting? Should I take a shit on a Tesla? Maybe cry? Of course not! Smart monkeys see these things coming and adapt.

Put on your big boy pants and disable the cloud portion of the Bambu Studio software. It’s not hard. Get over yourself. The cloud approach worked great but I knew it wouldn’t last. Some golden ages are shorter than others.

It took 20 minutes of dicking around to kill cloud access and switch to LAN Only. Now it works exactly the same as before (except the cell phone parts, which had already lost their novelty).

Then I started thinking. What shall I do when they do the next insufferable thing?

So I swapped entirely out of the Bambu Lab Studio. I just made a print with Orca Slicer. Orca Slicer is totally open source. It too is running on my LAN. So I’ve got two methods proven to work without reporting to spybot central.

Nice.

Finally, it can run off an SD card. It wouldn’t kill me to walk across my shop and stuff the card in… manually… like a caveman.

The point is, the slow gradual progression from “golden age” to “shitshow” is incremental and certainly no big deal… yet. I still recommend the Bambu Lab A1 with AMS lite (if you can find it). Or the A1 mini with AMS Lite (which would take up less space).

The fat lady hasn’t sung. Bambu Lab has not shit the bed yet. They’ll come out with something more awesome than my A1 and they’ll probably do so in 2025. Or not. If whatever they release includes the mandatory proctology examination add-on with AI driven supports, SIRI audio suggestions, and glowing pinstripes I’ll be even more happy with my LAN-locked A1.

For a basic, uninformed n00b, who wants to get in on the fun without joining a technological cult there may never be a better time. Betamax has passed. VHS isn’t perfect but it’s good enough. Only a tool would wait for Blue Ray. And some asshole already put a Pepsi in on the VHS of Top Gun.

Act (or not) as you wish.

Possibly the best two paragraphs written since the fall of the Bidenverse.

In my quiet backwater of the Hudson Valley, an early spring drives all creation violently. The peaceful sleep of winter ends in twitches and spasms. The ground breaks open like one big egg and all living things emerge: green shafts of the crocus, scuttling sowbugs, slithering snakes, sleek garlic shoots, ‘possums in the compost bucket, ticks are back on the cat’s face, the ice in the river cracks in frightening booms, hungry songbirds infest the bare roadside lilacs, tiny voices trill darkly in the woods, a lone early moth in its first rapture of flight meets the pitiless windshield.

You can feel it. The northern hemisphere of this planet shudders, rattles, and rolls into the most tumultuous spring in memory. Everything is in play, turning, turning, while forgotten consequence rises on vengeful wings like an aggrieved god of yore. Nothing will be as it was. A most wicked spell has been broken. What does it feel like to be able to think again?

Your version of 2025 hasn’t been mine but I’m sure it’s been just as exciting. During this time of upheaval, I hope you’ve done as well as me. Actually, I hope you’ve done better.

Lest we forget, 2025 started in a hush. We all tiptoed on eggshells for the first 20 days of January. What could possibly be left in evil’s bag of tricks? They’d tried absolutely everything to sink Trump. What’s next? A nuke from space? Attack of the woke Elvis Impersonators? Ridiculous drones in New Jersey? It could be anything.

Perversely, all those relentless attacks honed the guy from an Orange Real Estate dweeb into the absolute machine he’s become. I couldn’t be happier!

Trump survived the swearing in and only then did we breathe a sigh of relief. On the other hand, after all he’d been through, the guy had a plan and it included lighting fuses everywhere. Thus, we began an action packed chapter in what is already a hell of a story.

America’s been trying to self-immolate as long as I’ve been alive. It never stops trying to shoot its own foot. It always failed but how many times could it aim at that foot and miss? Maybe the answer is all the way to color revolution… but no further?

Now the nation is coming out of its fever dream. Society itself is righting course and (except for the very ultimate irredeemably woke) trying to live in accordance with reality. (Step one, USAID was naught but corruption. Transparency is a good thing and we all know the truth now.) I’m in awe of America’s story arc!

Unfortunately, I finally broke under the stress. I picked up a cold and it was a nasty one. To be honest I didn’t mind. Nobody is immune to decades of bullshit. I figured my malady was well overdue. I thought of it as “battle fatigue”.

The human heart can endure only so much faffing about. Sometimes the body needs to check out for a while. My time had come. It’s a miracle I lasted through 2024!

I have neither regret nor anger. I was just sick. It’s been a hard ride. Don’t let yourself forget the madness we’ve experienced; remember it. Gaslighting is bad regardless of whether it was inflicted on you by propaganda or you indulge in it as a sort of mental self protection. Clear memory is good. False memories are corrosive. Care for your memories. Here’s a tiny part of the story I type today to remind myself:

In 2012 I was shocked to discover incandescent lightbulbs were illegal.

If you can bully a man where does it stop? Answer: It doesn’t.

They just… did it. My preference was irrelevant and illegal.

Eight years after someone I never met decided I couldn’t put an incandescent bulb in my chicken coop because apparently that’s how authority works, I went to bed after a solid Trump election, only to wake up in the Bidenverse. That was a much bigger blow. Say it with me, “Joe Biden got more votes than any candidate in American history.” Go ahead. Say it. Remember when you’d get cancelled off social media and possibly arrested if you didn’t say it. Did you say it back then, when it was forced on you?

If you can bully a man where does it stop? Answer: It doesn’t.

Two years after the totally legit, unquestionable, vote tally of statistical improbability, the man in the picture below ordered me to inject substances in my vein.

Remember when personal medical decisions were personal? I do. I also remember when all that went out the window. In a flash, Karen at the HOA became willing, actually eager, to dime you out. Were there cattle cars and concentration camps? In Australia, yes. In America, no. That angry night, with its blood red symbolism and complete disregard for human dignity was the closest America has come to Fascism. We balanced briefly on the knife edge and then a great and largely silent decision was reached. Within a few months entire stadiums were shouting “Fuck Joe Biden”. I love my people!

Is it a straight line between deciding what light bulb I can have and who shall inject what into my bloodstream? I don’t know. All I know is that the unthinkable happened. Huge portions of society, both in America and planet wide, took an injection they didn’t want. (I’m not talking about the folks who desired it and enjoyed getting what they want. Good for them.) I’m talking about the ones who got an injection because their job, or medical care, or child, was held hostage. How far can it go? If you let it happen, you now know your soul. You know what will make you submit. You know what your neighbor will do to you if they can. I don’t know far it could have gone. I only know how far it went.

If you can bully a man where does it stop? Answer: It depends on the makeup of who’s being bullied.

Two years after the snarling monster in the photo above, Trump’s head exploded in a pink mist on live TV.

Except it didn’t. The assassin missed.

Good fortune. Sometimes that’s all it takes to change a bad story into a good one.

The shot missed. The corrupt lawyers failed. The biased Judges didn’t pull it off. The FBI lies, the planted stories, the false and paid off media, the bots on social media, and the endless propaganda… A vast effort was put into making sure Americans don’t choose their president. The effort rebounded. Crooked, lying, corrupt, evil bastards created their own nemesis.

I always wondered just how totalitarian Americans could go. Now I know. I joyously watch the pendulum swing back. It’s coming back HARD. The first few weeks was an avalanche. It had to be that way. We needed release. The accumulated lies had grown too thick. The corruption intolerable. The boil had to be lanced.

I appreciate that Trump went at it fast. Smart move… and a historic moment to savor. I stood on the banks of the river of time, watching the flow. I gave thanks.

But I was also tired. Aren’t we all? Alas, the last part of a marathon is the hardest. I put extra effort into proper self care. Extra sleep. Better food. I did a fast. I reduced exposure to the “news”. Etc…

I tried to recover gradually. It didn’t work.

I picked up a plain old cold. I’m usually pretty resistant but this one kicked my ass.

I did all the right stuff. Took time off work. Plenty of rest, lots of fluids, fuckin’ soup (I hate soup!), etc… The only thing that really did much was sleep and NyQuil. I rode it out the old fashioned way and after a couple weeks I felt marginally OK. I’d made it!

In the meantime, the world kept keepin’ on. Brutal winter gave out. The first hints of spring drifted my way. Winter never lasts forever. Having declared myself “fine”, I tottered out to my yard. I stood in fuzzy slippers on the iced soil which will soon be muddy soup and then summertime lawn that grows so fast I bitch about it. The squirrels were out and about. Once again, I’ve lived through winter.

This one was always going to be close. I had not stacked enough firewood. I was so fried coming into it that I skipped hunting. I entered winter jittery in anticipation of the November surprise recount of doom and exited it under the exaltation of DOGE’s merciless hunt for corrupt expenditures. There’s a paltry 1/2 cord of firewood left, and a nation punch drunk on change.

Sometimes you roll the dice and win.

Thankful I’d survived the cold, I decided conditions were excellent to start on the future woodpile. Most of the snow is gone but the icy ground is rock hard. No better time to drag logs about than this. I’d just ridden out a cold but now I was fine. I gathered my saw; still placed exactly where I stowed it. I checked my tractor, it had half a tank of fuel. In half an hour I could swap the snow bucket and start hauling wood.

But something wasn’t right. I went back inside. I read a few chapters of a book and crawled back in bed. I slept the afternoon away. We are all human.

I was surprised at myself for being “lazy” but also I never touch a chainsaw unless I know, completely and without reservation, that I’m “in the game”. I wasn’t. A lot of people live life half assed. You can do it. I can’t. I mess with saws, and motorcycles, and firearms, and all sorts of stuff. Screw with a chainsaw on a day that’s “off” and you reduce your odds of someday being old.

The next day was just as sunny. Not knowing why, I tiptoed around the idea of firewood. I  choose instead to do the springtime start of my “Jeep thing”. (I have a 4×4 object. I don’t mention on this blog. I will sometime, but not yet.) Struggling to install the battery was harder than it ought to be. But the machine fired up right well. I’ve dumped a lot of time and money in it and it starts better now that it once did. It has been inert since November and yet barely needed the choke to come to life.

I took Mrs. Curmudgeon with me on a shakeout drive. We “scouted” roads that are iced now and soon will be impassible mud. It was a fun afternoon but also a tiring one. The machine is not “user friendly”. I live life a little harder than most. My chosen steed is a hell of a 4×4 but hasn’t a single creature comfort.

I cut our adventure short and scampered home. Uncharacteristic of me to do so little on a weekend. Then, towards evening, my cold came back. It came back hard and beat me with a tire iron.

Ahhh…. that’s it. I wasn’t yet healthy! Who knew?

Grudgingly, I went to the Doc. He announced what I’d already figured out. I’ve got bronchitis. My self care and chicken soup had done what it could, but without antibiotics I just wasn’t capable of “walking it off”. How humbling! In the time before antibiotics would I just die? What a bummer to ponder!

For now, next year’s wood remains uncut. I’d picked a specific tree for my tractor and saw efforts but it has a temporary reprieve. On orders of the Doc and Mrs. Curmudgeon, I slumber under warm fluffy blankets while the lucky tree hosts songbirds on its long dead limbs. The tree and I will meet some sunny time, but not today.

A few weeks ago, hoping to avoid cabin fever, Mrs. Curmudgeon and I went on a mini vacation. In a random suburb I saw an indoor range. There’s no indoor range anywhere near our house. On a lark we stopped there.

The place was friendly, laid back, inexpensive, and clean. I’ve been to some ranges which are pristine but uptight. This wasn’t like that. It had a welcoming, almost Norman Rockwell, feel.

We did the requisite paperwork and dropped a few bucks on ammo. Don’t read too much into our target. It wasn’t a planned, regular practice thing with accuracy measured in MOA. It was just a chance to shuck off heavy winter coats and use our EDC (that’s all we had with us) to pinhole paper.

From there the fun grew! The range offered “rentals” and the rate wasn’t too bad. Soon we had a little tool box filled with various pistols in various calibers with various sights and various behavior. Some sucked, some rocked, some some made big holes, some made small. I usually fret about grouping and work hard to be awesome, this time I forced myself to relax and happily sample whatever different firearms were at hand.

Some targets had a silly but wholesome valentines motif and I thought that was great. I grabbed one. We took turns making it into confetti. Good clean fun.

It was the most American date ever.

Reader drewski kindly sent me a photo:

It’s not my truck, but it is awesome!

Are you enjoying newfound positivity in the world? I am! Every day I hear something that makes me smile. “That thing that pissed you off and seemed like it would never change… is changing.”

It’s been a long time coming.

Drink deeply of the world at this changing of the tide. Press, or media, or “history” won’t remember these times on our behalf. They’ll “memory hole” as much as they can; through incompetence or malice as you choose to interpret it.

If you let this time go from your heart, it’ll be gone for good. Do that and you might devolve into believing “the narrative”, whatever that happens to be. The “narrative” is a false construct. It always has been. It will always be so. So hold this memory tight. Please, observe and remember. It’s a special time.

Now for today’s story, which is absolutely true:

I was at the local medical monopoly obtaining minor care. When I say “medical monopoly” I mean exactly that. In my area (and yours) hospitals are “allowed” by the government based on “need”. Should another server wish to open a new hospital, the government can and does decide if the local service is “adequate”. If it’s “adequate” (according to their rules and not yours) more services are not “allowed”. It is the exact precise definition of “monopoly”. We’ve grown used to such things.

The service is as you’d expect from a monopoly. It’s not intolerable, but they’ll shiv you with a smile on their face.

Lucky me, I’m basically healthy. I drive there to get what I need, leave quickly, and hope I won’t pick up some sort of exotic disgusting contagion while I’m there.

The bad service was harder on Rheta.

Rheta was a sweet little old lady. She’d gotten to the facility using some sort of public transport and now she was stranded. How unfortunate! She was decades past the age of driving.

In rural areas, public transit (even to the medical monopoly), is almost comically bad. Someone had run some sort of shuttle bus to get poor Rheta here, and that’s good. Whomever offered that service had subsequently shut down for the day, abandoning her. That’s bad.

I listened as people at the desk tried several ideas; taxi (non-existent), shuttle (not answering), Uber (pretty much non-existent), etc… Urban planners and their glorious people’s light rail fiascos never reach far. There are parts of America where you need a car.

Rheta was worried. So were the desk people. One of them mentioned they’re specifically not allowed to check out and drive someone home. (I’m sure there’s a corporate “policy” that makes sense to planners and lawyers alike, none of whom have watched a sweet elderly lady get abandoned in a lobby.)

Sighing, I approached. “I have a truck that is ridiculously tall. It’s not easily accessed.” I was looking at Rheta’s walker. “But if you want, I will drive you anywhere you want to go.”

I was terrified! My truck is a no-bullshit truck; a true work machine. It’s completely unacceptable for frail little old ladies!

Rheta was a foot shorter than me, weighed nothing, and looked like she was 200 years old. A being like that might burst into dust just at the sound of the engine!

I wished I’d brought my wife’s car!

Having introduced myself in a situation I could have ignored, I stepped back. I was kind of hoping they’d turn me down. Instead the desk people swarmed me with much thanks and kindness. Rheta beamed, super happy to have “a ride with this nice lad”.

I tried to smile. I’m not a mean person but I don’t look friendly. I think I look like the average MAN, but men of a different era. By 2025, men have been watered down completely. On the scale of weenie to man-bun I look like I might kill and eat the average barista. I worried I’d make them nervous. Nope! Plucky Rheta and the two most active ladies at the desk thought Curmudgeon-based transport was a grand idea.

I scampered off to ready my truck. “When they see this beast, they’re going to realize it’s impossible. They’ll surely find a minivan somewhere.” I thought to myself.

I pulled in beneath the ER’s overhanging roof and left the big diesel idling to keep the cab warm. To my delight, the front seat was immaculate! The back seat was heaped with ammo cans, tools, chain, jackets, etc… but the front looked presentable. Rheta either didn’t notice or had the good graces not to ask about the two toy ducks on my dash. I glanced around for shit that would “trigger” normies; no spent shotgun shells, whiskey bottles, or raccoon traps. The cab looked civilized enough.

I hopped out, opened the passenger door, and then fled. No way was I qualified to be lifting anyone, much less a super frail woman, into the truck. I went back to the desk where one of the desk people was filling in while the two others were trying to hoist and cram the poor woman in my truck.

“Where am I going?” I stammered.

“Here’s the address, it’s very close.” They mentioned that like I cared about distance. I didn’t give a shit about distance. I’d drive the lady to Pittsburg if she wanted. I wanted to know how I’d get her out of the truck.

“Have someone waiting there. To get her out. Please.” I urged.

“I will.” She assured me.

I was not assured. And no, she didn’t make the call.

I glanced back at my truck. Two desk ladies and Rheta were pushing and pulling trying to get her into the truck. “Don’t you have like… what do they call ’em? Orderlies? Ambulance guys? Someone who knows how to…” My words failed me.

The desk lady chuckled. Apparently I’d said something funny. I assume there are beefy but trained people who show up at car crashes and shit? Probably there’s some sort of “policy” that they’re no help unless you’re getting billed for the ride.

“This is bullshit.” I muttered. “I carry firewood, cargo, you know… bags of feed.”

“It’ll be fine.” The desk person was completely unconcerned.

Back at the truck, I chose to focus on the stout walker instead of the delicate person. Rheta’s walker, even folded, didn’t fit well in the back seat. I removed her stuff, mostly a “clutch” purse that looked frightfully old and also far too stylish to be in my Neandertal hands. Then I gingerly placed the folded walker in a completely empty 8′ cargo bed.

Two helpers and Rheta hadn’t yet summited Mount Truck. I was near panic watching them. “They’re gonna’ break that nice lady in half… and there will be a sweet grandma lady who’s dead IN MY TRUCK!” I thought.

Someone joined me as I stood there. Another desk lady. She took my name and number. Then I was like “What? You think I’m a kidnapper of sweet old ladies?” The desk lady blushed a bit and said “Well it’s policy.”

This pissed me off. They didn’t care enough to arrange transportation. There was no ambulance guy or an EMT or something to get Rheta into a truck. But there sure as hell was a “we left her with this serial killer” list. I’m on that fuckin’ list!

Despite my worries, Rheta was eventually seated. She seemed to be enjoying the view. It’s a tall truck, she’s probably not had a view like that in forever. I hoped my windshield was clear.

I handed Rheta her handbag clutch. She had a jaunty beret pinned in her hair at an angle. The handbag and the hat matched, and so did her dress. This woman had dressed up to go to the doctor. Probably all those accessories were super fashionable at one time. They looked vaguely French, for reasons I can’t define. Modern people wear sweatpants in public but Rheta was from a much earlier time. I respect that.

It was like I’d picked up an aging star. Who knows what this woman did 40 years ago?

As I walked around to the driver’s seat, one of the desk people told me I was doing a good thing. Thanks. She also said Rheta was 92 years old. As if I weren’t nervous enough!

I settled into the driver’s seat and pulled out like the Dodge was a Rolls Royce, trying for the smoothest ride possible. Rheta seemed charmed with the view and looked at everything with bright eyes. (I’d washed the windshield! Yay me!)

My heart was melting, loading and unloading were worries but actual driving is no big deal. I’d be perfectly happy driving her all afternoon if she wanted.

She chirped away, teaching me to spell her name and asking about my connection to the area. I’ve lived here for decades… merely a newcomer. I’m from far away. She was from right here. Good for her.

The big truck seat and wide view seemed a good thing. I wanted to ask if I should drive her to get groceries or just enjoy the scenery. But I also didn’t know how to offer a touring ride without sounding like that guy from the Door’s song. I was having a good time hearing her tell me about people who’d probably died before I was born. I’d been misled by what I thought was fancy clothes, she’d been on the farm, probably in the time of horses.

She did not talk about politics. She didn’t complain about the weather. I never heard her last name. She talked about a town that was here before the medical monopoly turned corn crops into insurance billing. It was a privilege to hear an elder. I listened carefully.

Sadly, it was a short drive. Rheta lived in a very new and hopefully nice place for elderly people. I hopped out and the place was abandoned and locked. Oh no! Now what?

In the vestibule I pressed a button on an intercom. A young-ish woman answered. I explained I had Rheta here and I super extra deeply would appreciate someone to help get her out of a tall truck.

A person (I don’t know the job title) showed up. She was all smiles and officially useless. She explained that she was not allowed to touch anybody entering or exiting any vehicle, but she was sure it would be fine. I assembled Rheta’s little walker and barely got back to the passenger door in time. Rheta was already trying to climb out of the cab!

Could she do the impossible on her own? I waited. Then Rheta paused a bit.

“Would you like help?” I asked, hoping she didn’t.

“Yes, maybe just a bit.”

So much for that. I reached up and, ever so gently, like she was a Fabergé egg, lifted her to the ground. She weighed nothing and I settled her at her walker so smoothly it was like gravity didn’t apply. Whew!

I wanted to hug Rheta but didn’t dare. I’d given a frail person a ride in my lumbering death truck and nothing had gone wrong. That’s enough luck for one day! I turned down her attempts to pay me and wished her well… and I really meant it. The facility person, who was all smiles, led Rheta into her facility.

I’ll never see her again.

Back in the truck, the cab seemed a little less pleasant. I missed Rheta’s smiling disposition and bright observant eyes. But also a huge weight was off my shoulders. I have no training in how to haul very old people.

I drove to a Starbucks, pulled in, and sat at a table slurping overpriced coffee. I needed to calm my nerves before the long drive home.

I’d done a good deed. I’d do it again. But it wasn’t something to which I’m accustomed. That’s how it goes. God doesn’t give you the challenge you’re prepared for, he gives you the one that needs doing. Dealing with a tree across the road wouldn’t break my stride. Being free Uber for the elderly was much harder.

Maybe I’ve learned something. Next time I go to the hospital, I’ll borrow my wife’s Honda!

Have you enjoyed the bright new age? Despite 2024’s fake polls, assassination attempts, and endless complaints, a new situation rushed into existence right on schedule. It’s like it was created by the utter, complete, and total collapse of the Bidenverse? Maybe we needed to hit rock bottom? Reagan won huge because Carter sucked. Biden is similar. If they hadn’t mercilessly lawfared him, would Trump 2 have leveled up to the Ultimate Boss he’s become?

Watching rational governance return to America is like watching a horse released from a tiny paddock into a large field. Muscles are used. Strength happens. A head is held high as the horse does what it was born to do. Look at that thing run!

Older folks might have memories. I’ve only heard stories of a government that was proud and strong. For most generations, the only experience is plodding mediocrity. As with all forms of evil, it gradually descended into blithering madness and abject corruption before going down in flames.

And now Trump does one thing after another. His actions make me (and a lot of other folks) smile. It’s refreshing when a President acts like he has an actual job. We’d gotten used to figureheads who treated “the big chair” like a side gig; the posing of a marionette for cutting ribbons and giving speeches. Meanwhile, private grift and secret maneuvers were the real action.

It’s fulfilling to see things happen. Right there in front of your eyes, you’re seeing responsibility exercised, duties fulfilled; someone is even trying to balance the books! We’re seeing (possibly for the first time) actual, no-bullshit, all the warts exposed, transparency.

America (and perhaps most of Europe) has spent a very long time locked in a web of conflicting interests. The slightest change in anything anywhere generated an equal and opposite force from an eternal maladapted bureaucracy. That is ending.

I knew this day would come. Multi-generation attritional wars of ineptitude must end. They have to. When something can’t possibly continue, it won’t.

I did not guess it would happen this way. I vacillated between anticipating a Mad Max Armageddon or the mass death of Boomers leading to the financial depression they baked into the cake. In defense of Boomers, they did it not necessarily out of malignancy but of inertia. They just weren’t going to let the world adapt to… the world.

Yet to my surprise, real measurable change is happening more or less peacefully. (If you ignore a few assassination attempts and whatever we should call 2020.) Don’t fret over the uncertainties, rejoice that we no longer have concertina wire around the White House or political prisoners.

This is the second time I’ve seen it. The first was the fall of the Berlin wall.

I spent an entire (young) life concerned that oppressed people suffered behind that wall. If you’d asked anybody, anyone at all, they’d have said it was there forever. It was never going away. It was never going to get better. Nobody anywhere had the slightest bit of optimism. As Gen X, I spent my life being told there was no hope. The wall, a geopolitical scar left from the second great war and supported by inevitable infallible socialism, was there for eternity.

Until it wasn’t. On November 9, 1989 the house of cards collapsed. Could there be a greater revelation?

I’d been lied to. In 1988, everyone said communism was inevitable and sure to overcome America. By Christmas 1989, newly freed people were already starting to rebuild a better life.

Anyone who saw the Wall fall should know “experts” make mistakes. They were absolutely, massively, completely, utterly wrong. (Maybe the Berlin Wall was supposed to teach us to keep our head when “experts” wanted everyone to go apeshit over Covid? The President himself pronounced me doomed: “…we are looking at a winter of severe illness and death — if you’re unvaccinated — for themselves, their families, and the hospitals they’ll soon overwhelm…” Wrong call motherfucker! I’m as happy as a pig in shit and your decrepit ass was kicked out of your own campaign!)

Love him or hate him, Trump Version 2.0 is the fall of another Berlin Wall.

A man can say what he’ll do and then do it. Who knew?!? Did you know a president can do the things he said he’d do during the campaign? We know there’s no law against it, but doesn’t it seem like a rule of nature? Once a politician  has your vote he’ll “grow in office”, doing the bare minimum until he’s a fucking slug. That’s my observation. Until now.

Which brings me to the next pleasant revelation; I forgot there could be a Republican president that isn’t immediately fucked by the Republican party. It’s not required by law, but it most certainly is practice and tradition. Reagan could tell ya’ all about it. Trump #1 did about as much as he could possibly while his own party jammed a shiv in his back every chance they could. I assumed it inevitable that a President of R gets hosed by his own party. The party is so reliably bad I wonder why the party of R actually exists. This time it’s different. After a few bleating sheep-like motions they sniffed the wind and fled while the Orange Juggernaut steamrolled everything. Neat!

I could go on for hours but I don’t need to. You’re watching the same show. The best I can say is “enjoy this moment“.

Motion in direction can be beautiful. I’ve often sought out riverbanks for the same feeling I’m getting out of “events” today. I’ll find a nice rock or tree stump and watch the mighty inexorable flow of a river. Steady and strong, eternally in motion yet also calming and true. How many tons of water flow by? How far does it go? How majestic is it to see each little molecule of H20 become a forever flow to the ocean.

Rivers feel strong. The Army Corps of Engineers might hurl money at the Mississippi but it always gets to Gulf. Apparently it gets to the Gulf of America now. Ha ha ha! Rivers can be killed. Ask the Colorado River Compact about it. But it’s hard to screw up that bad.

Now is a time to pleasantly flow like a river. I was tired of percolating in a swamp.

I drove to town. I used to go there every day. That changed. Not the town, me. I go there only occasionally.

After COVID, seeing what people allowed themselves to become, I just stopped needing the presence of people so much anymore. I’m not angry (I’m not even disappointed), I’m just removed. I was never of the city, now I’ve structured a life where I don’t often go there… and I don’t miss it.

Folks think I must be suffering. What am I missing? Symphonies? Do you honestly go to the city for symphonies and glorious museums? Of course not. You go there to buy shit at Walmart. I need shit less and less.

I was never gregarious and now I’m even less so. I kind of like the new me. Nobody escaped Covid. It (or rather the social upheaval generated of it) either it made you more of what you already were or nudged you to be something different. I was always less interested in people and more in trees; Covid reminded me why.

I’m not a hermit. I need hardware stores and car parts just like everyone else. I need to do certain business transactions. I have weaknesses. (I keep an eye out in case the McRib comes back.)

So it is that I found myself in town. It was -20 Fahrenheit and snowing.

The “city” was hunkered down, riding out a climate that will literally kill you. The best part of brutal climates is that it reduces bullshit. When it’s that cold, nobody’s bitching about recycling or wants you to sign a petition. Nobody’s out on the streets being a pain in the ass. Electric cars evaporate. The only pedestrians are dressed like they’re running a trap line. They move from Point A to Point B with quick, forced efficiency. It gets so cold, only  serious, rational, adults can handle it.

-20 is hard core.

My diesel truck (fueled on the higher cost diesel #1) was running flawlessly. I churned through unplowed urban parking lots in useful non-ironic 4×4 mode. I did my errands. Then I left.

As I left I noticed what I never see at -20 Fahrenheit. Lunatics and bums and drugged out losers. They wander the streets in August, but are gone at -20. I’m not sure where they go. Like mosquitoes, they simply reappear when it’s warm. Unlike insects, their absence under certain circumstances tells me they’re an optional part of the environment.

I was thinking about USAID; a bureaucracy seemingly built entirely to launder tax dollars into kickbacks and unpleasant experiences. Old videos of old cities don’t show bums. At least not like we accept in a modern city.

I theorize nutjobs and addicts and flakes are ubiquitous because they were deinstitutionalized. One could argue with the wisdom of “dump them on the streets”. Maybe the institutions sucked. I dunno’. I read One Flew Over The Cookoos Nest just like you did. But is delusional wandering in traffic better?

I only know that a world of non-crazy people ended before I was born. It ended so completely I have trouble imagining it. Only during a blizzard do I see a remnant of the time when a regular citizen could walk city streets without dealing with derelicts. Grainy videos of Buicks maneuvering busy streets filled with working men wearing ties and hats are as distant as Mars.

Was that on purpose? How much of was caused by USAID? How much money does it take to generate derelicts to beg at the stoplight in August yet vanish in January? I harbor the suspicion they’re more created than inevitable. Just one of a thousand ways our tax dollars are spent to destabilize society and annoy us.

I’m starting to wonder what WON’T be around after USAID (and much more) is cut? Have you considered this?

What won’t happen without all that corrupt funding?

Will I be able to turn on my truck radio without NPR bitching at me about gun control? Will I be able to stop at a light without some willfully unemployed jackass begging for a buck? Will I make a service call without pressing 9 for English? Will I “Netflix and chill” without a black lesbian in the lead role? Will there be TV without a thousand ads for drugs? Will teachers instruct students in fractions instead of “oppression”? Will subsidized electric cars be less common? Will I drive on the highway without billboards barking about various government programs? Will the power grid stay on better? Will McDonalds fries once again taste yummy?

Imagine all the good things we might get from the absence of corrupt and expensive Federally funded bullshit!

Everything from plastic straws to non-propaganda media might return. Dare we hope for a quieter, saner life?

I can’t wait to find out.

In November 2020 I stayed up late watching a fairly solid Trump win. Around midnight, satisfied with what I’d seen, I went to bed. I woke up in a different world, which I called “The Bidenverse”. That sense of unease, that all was not well, never faded.

I was told that this was normal. This was never normal.

By the way, you can purchase that print.* I’ve considered buying it for myself. I want to remember what I really experienced. In time I’ll have a faded hazy memory with the jagged edges sanded down, and that won’t encapsulate what really happened.

In fact, the Bidenverse gifted us with much to remember. I say that in the most positive way I can. Before the Bidenverse, one could entertain certain pleasant beliefs that were nothing but comforting fictions. If you’ve paid attention the last several years you are a different person. You know things which are true; things which you might once have dismissed as “paranoid conspiracy theories”. After the Bidenverse never let the words “that can’t happen here” or “politician X can’t do that because it’s illegal” escape your lips. You officially and formally know better.

Take heart in that. Your growing understanding of human nature makes you a more complete human. The loss of naivete is painful, but necessary to wisdom. You know some things that will keep you attentive. If you ever had doubts, now you know what your neighborhood Karen would do given a chance. You are not immune to what Karen might inflict on you but you can never ever say “I didn’t know humans could act like that”.

I’m not trying to dump on anyone for their former naivety. Even myself, a person I thought most cynical, had limits. I honestly believed “this will all get aired out and sorted” when Epstein was put in jail. Can you believe it? What can I say? I was a dumbass!

Corruption of the sort we’ve recently seen is on a scale I hadn’t previously witnessed. I simply couldn’t imagine it. The Bidenverse was closer to Lady Macbeth or the late Roman Empire’s collapse than the nation in which I grew up.

Maybe you need to see everyone clam up after Epstein is gone to have a different understanding? Epstein conveniently vanished while Trump was floundering under a zillion lawsuits. Six months later the entire fuckin’ planet went spastic over a pathogen that it is only recently legally safe to say came from a research facility funded by America, operating in China. Think about that sentence; “pathogen released by American funded Chinese research station goes global”.

The man who expected Epstein’s shit to get sorted properly in a court of law wasn’t ready to type that sentence non-ironically. The one that’s typing right now shrugs and knows it to be so. A few years of lawfare deployed against Trump helps us truly appreciate rule of law and what goes away when you can no longer trust the courts.

Anyway, despite every form of corruption and degradation, the Bidenverse ended. Actually it wasn’t despite it, it was because of it. Evil carries the seed of it’s own demise.

That which started with concertina wire and political prisoners ended with the whole world ignoring Biden’s new Amendments. The dude’s last formal act was to pardon as many corrupt people as he could name, ending only on the day he trudged out of the limelight… having pardoned his family and a few select weasels like Fauchi. There is no glorious future for the Bidenworld, only an ugly end to a terrible time.

Soak everything in… especially how quickly the pendulum returns from wide swings.

This is where I draw a lot of faith. Evil may have been afoot but when it seemed strongest was when it was closest to collapse. Biden’s speech, the one with the hellish red hue where he declared that I (and possibly you) weren’t living up to his standards, was from September 1, 2022.

28 months. Only 28 months ago the rage and anger seemed so powerful. I was shocked that an angry embittered man flanked by red hued Marines could go on such a tirade. I’ve never heard a president shrieked that his patience with me had worn thin. His patience with me! The president insisted I must submit to his will and I just didn’t expect that! And such a personal thing too. The beneficence of a geriatric politician required a needle in my vein. Why not just bend me over and shove a broomstick up my ass?

I once thought it an affront that incandescent lightbulbs were outlawed. Remember that? The Bidenverse established a much different baseline didn’t it?

The Bidenverse peaked when a man I never met, who has never spoken with me, and who has never earned my trust… demanded my submission. Many of us said “no” and it collapsed. And it wasn’t a minor drift in popularity, it was a flat out complete faceplant to the lowest levels of universal loathing. He had defiled not America, but himself. I wouldn’t speak to a dog with the tone of voice Biden used against us. Then again Biden seems to have trouble with dogs as well.

A dark time indeed. It would certainly be understandable to lose hope. Many did. I started resolute and became more resolute by the minute, but others submitted. They now know what it’ll take to hammer them into shape. I suppose we all learned different things in the Bidenverse.

And what a week since! I’m not going to rehash what’s going on. You can see it for yourself. You should see it for yourself. It’s important to soak it all in.

Trump wouldn’t be moving so lighting fast if he hadn’t been taught (and yes the word is taught) that he must. He wouldn’t be so successful if the people weren’t happy with his plans (or at least most of them).

In a way, Trump (the version we have now) was made necessary by the Bidenverse. Maybe that’s another ray of hope to embrace and understand. We’d all have been (mostly) happy with squishy give and take if the corruption hadn’t made “draining the swamp” a matter of self preservation.

I still haven’t come up with a name for what follows the Bidenverse. But I’m reminded of the “Reconquista”. Since most of us are victims of American Education I’ll explain my reasoning. Starting in the year 711 the Umayyad Caliphate invaded and subjugated Spain and Portugal.

Europe failed badly. That part of Christendom collapsed fast, most of it in less than a decade. If you were there you might have been terrorized.

But, it did come back. Slowly, with fits and starts, the Iberian peninsula was “recaptured”. It took centuries, officially completed in 1492 (a year you might remember for other reasons). The point is, the Reconquista did return that part of Europe to it’s original society but also it didn’t. A lot of time passes. Something like post Roman Europe returned but it was more like mid-Renaissance. “Normalcy” returned in a new but still “normal-ish” state.

That’s what I think about Trump. Despite the left going apeshit, most of what he’s trying to do is “restore”, not “build anew”. When Trump said “there are just men and women and not 50 other flavors” that’s not new, it’s something that would be unquestioned even just a few years ago. The idea that the FBI should solve crimes instead of cover them up, that’s “restore” not “from way out in right field”. The idea that borders are borders isn’t particularly weird; the opposite is flat out nuts.

Trump is lightning fast compared to the grinding Reconquista but I haven’t come up with a better word. I think it’s because I’ve never seen anything like it. Evil is collapsing so completely and so utterly I can’t quite describe it. Maybe I need to talk with someone who was there when the Berlin Wall fell?

Anyway, I’m enjoying it and I hope you are too. It’s a rare thing we’re seeing. Observe carefully. Remember everything you can.

A.C.

*If you click on my link and buy anything, Amazon shoots me a small kickback. It costs you nothing.

About now, barring tragic events that nobody sane wants but nobody sane can completely dismiss, the inauguration is over. I feel less the elation of a short term event and more the satisfaction of having endured a marathon. 2020 has been the longest year of my life. I’m glad it’s over.

I’m thankful there isn’t concertina wire strung around my capital.

I’m thankful the election of 2024 was (mostly) without weird cascading statistical anomalies. It wasn’t perfect; California took a month to do a one day job and several other states went to the wire trying to protect their  “machines of statistical oddity”. (I’m looking at you Pennsylvania.) I (and you) were spared the sinking disorientation of going to bed after a nice solid election only to wake up in what I came to call “the Bidenverse”.

I’m thankful to have new knowledge. Back in 2016 a lot of people lost their mind when Hillary lost. I called it cognitive dissonance and expected the exhaustion of pointless anger to finally bring them back into the fold of sanity. Silly me. When Covid hit, I thought “maybe a challenge not caused by politics but a pathogen can bring us together”. Silly me. I gained new knowledge. I have a different understanding of the maturity and character of a goodly portion of humanity. It wasn’t a fun thing, but I thought too highly of fellow man in general. It’s good to correct that omission of thought. (Don’t think all is cynicism, I also saw my nation refuse to be further manipulated. They were pushed very far but not all the way. That’s a good thing.)

I’m thankful to have had the opportunity to stand on principle. I took an unpopular, socially isolating, stand against the vax and I was 100% sure that I’d wind up fired. I sure didn’t want that! Yet, I’m glad that God gave me a challenge so mild! Getting fired and harassed at the grocery store? How much worse have braver men faced! That so many folded is none of my business. We each made our decision and it is our lesson to individually learn. And for that matter if you loved the vax good for you. I’ve got nothing against other people’s choices. I only want the freedom to make my own choice.

I’m thankful that, when someone I love was dying in the hospital, it was after the time of holding a patient hostage and away from unvaxxed loved ones. I couldn’t have borne that. Maybe God knew and cut me some slack.

I’m thankful that we all have seen that the Executive can and has functioned without a President (or at least a functioning one). The machine staggered on with no or many hands on the wheel. Perhaps people would get less wound up about who is president if they realized he’s merely one man in a big world?

I’m thankful we returned to free travel within the Nation. I never thought that would be a problem but it got pretty sketchy for a while.

I’m thankful a man falsely accused and indicted became more popular and not less.

I’m thankful that people pardoned can be called to testify under oath and threat of perjury and they cannot “take the fifth”. I don’t know if this will even matter but it might.

I’m thankful the President can announce a change to our foundational document (the constitution) and the people will react with a big huge yawn because the president can’t do that. We really owe Biden a big one for that and it was only 3 days ago.

I’m thankful the political prisoners Biden kept may soon be free. I missed living in a nation that didn’t have political prisoners.

I’m thankful the press, which lied constantly, is now known by nearly every citizen as completely untrustworthy. That they’re making lawsuit payouts and getting fewer viewers than independent podcasters is icing on the cake.

I’m thankful I’m still standing.

That’s a short, off the cuff, list. I’m absolutely awash in gratitude. I’m celebrating by doing nothing other than breathing in the air of someone who’s been unburdened of a great weight. I’m hunkered down at my house burning firewood and trying to keep the pipes thawed. (That reminds me, I’m thankful I’m still healthy enough to cut and use firewood.)

Enjoy today everyone. You made it thought a 4 year 2020. You earned it!