Adaptive Curmudgeon

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!

[I haven’t posted since Christmas Eve. I’ve posted sparsely all winter. There’s a reason. I’ve got a thing I want to say. It’s too big. I probably lack the skill to say it. Forgive me as I use analogy for that which I grok but can’t articulate.]

In 2017 there was a total eclipse of the sun. A lot of people ignored it and the press tried to create from it cause for alarm, but an eclipse is nothing mysterious. It was an opportunity. A rare beautiful celestial event in a convenient(-ish) time and place. I packed up the family and went there.

One of the best decisions I ever made!

I’m a lucky guy. I’ve seen many wonderful things. I’ve deliberately witnessed nature’s glory as much as possible; mountain vistas, jagged canyons, sinuous dunes, surging ocean waves, flickering northern lights, the fluke of a humpback whale, the howl of a wolf. When God speaks, I try to listen.

None of this prepared me for the glory of a total eclipse of the sun. I peeked behind the veil and saw the universe. What good fortune to live in such an amazing world!

The totality lasted about two and a half minutes. I stood rooted in place, time stopped, the birds stopped singing, distant streetlights came on, insects stopped flying. The world hung in the balance.

The little crowd of people I was amid, hushed. When the totality began, there’d been cheering and the chatter of happy people. As it continued the bustle faded into complete awe. It was unlike anything we’d ever seen.

During this very special moment in time, a semi rolled by on the abandoned street. Its headlights were on. I think often of that trucker, alone in his cab. Driving past clusters of enraptured people watching the sky. Ignoring perhaps one of the rarest and most special moments into which his life might blunder.

Maybe his is the saddest fate I’ve ever pondered. It’s not that I don’t understand his point of view. Shortly after the eclipse, the roads predictably turned to gridlock. The zone of totality was roughly 70 miles wide. Rolling smooth and steady while every other human was staring at the sky, he probably ran a full 15 minutes unhindered. Assuming he was headed straight across the zone he might have shaved a half hour or maybe twice that off his total drive time.

So what? It’s a dismal calculation. A lifetime of driving, a career at the wheel; sparing not ever two and a half minutes to feed the spirit. No aspect of shipping can be so important. A man who won’t stop and marvel at the exact moment the veil of the sky is lifting her skit will never stop for anything. Short of passed out behind a dumpster how much more spiritually dead can you get?

Of course, his choices are nobody’s business, certainly not mine. I hope the trucker got his load delivered that much easier. I’m sure he was at peace with his decision. I know in my heart he lived a smaller, weaker, sadder, life than absolutely necessary. I also know in my heart it’s not my call.

Anyway that’s how two paths crossed in 2017. I wrote about it, telling everyone how mind shatteringly beautiful the moment had been. I wanted to share just a fraction of the thing and to encourage people to pay attention next time. Improbably, this rare event was going to have a “do-over”. It would repeat in April 2024… merely seven years later.

Of course, I was there in 2024. As before, a lot of people ignored it and the press tried to create from it some cause for alarm. As before, I witnessed a miracle. It was just as glorious and just as awe inspiring, but no subsequent eclipse will compare to my first. I wrote far less about the 2024 event. Why? Because it’s the last one for 20 years. Between now and August 12, 2045, either you were there or you weren’t.

Why am I talking about rare, beautiful, irregularly spaced, celestial events? Because miracles deserve to be recognized. Yet we’re rapidly forgetting one; even as it glows right in front of us. So very quickly we become that jaded trucker; dutifully looking at the road, immune to the wonder all around him.

We… all of us… on all sides of any political spectrum, just witnessed a rare thing. It feels embarrassing to call it a miracle, for politics is shit and we are far too cynical a people these days. Regardless, it was “a big deal”. Only a fool would discard the thing they witnessed themselves and replace it with the bullshit narrative fed to them as an alternative.

You saw it. We all did. The people insisted upon something, and succeeded. How awesome is that?

Absolutely everything was counter to the people’s preference and yet the people made their choice anyway. Nearly every bureaucracy, nearly every big corporation, nearly every facet of government, nearly every nook and cranny of “mainstream media”, every TV show, every Disney movie, every school, every university, everything everywhere demanded a certain outcome. But the people did not submit.

Free will is a very special thing. When you see it, treasure it. Be happy to have experienced it.

Forget, for the moment, various complaints, real or imagined, for or against, one particular real estate selling politically astute goofball. Just bask in the fact that the people made their will known and their will was not the choice ordered from halls of power. Society has had a rough patch lately. Even in it’s current battered, debased, dumbed down, manipulated, and degraded state, society still managed to acknowledge the people’s will.

You. Just. Saw. A. Miracle.

Admittedly, it’s not as sublime as an eclipse or a birth or a sunrise… but it bears a moment of gratitude. A silent moment to reflect on what you’ve witnessed.

It’s easy to be persuaded into submission. Evidence suggests boardrooms, think tanks, CEOs, and government flunkies control everything… but they don’t. They sure as hell didn’t control this election.

I’ve been hearing for four years “they won’t let him win”. I reject that! Despair is a sin. Despair is weakness and cowardice. Humans should not whine like a helpless herd animal. A complete human can stand up on his hind legs and pursue his own choices, even (especially) when the odds don’t look good.

“They” didn’t want a landslide, but they got one… shoved straight up “their” ass. They pulled out all the stops. Lawfare in half a dozen states. Assassin’s bullets. Lies and propaganda and weeks of counting mystery ballots in California. It’s coming out that internal polling showed Trump cruising to victory even as every media source everywhere did a song and dance about “the polls are close”. How much uncertainty and misery was sowed into millions of innocent people who didn’t deserve such treatment? And yet is was all for naught. Everything “they” did, wasn’t enough compared to what “we” did.

That’s the important part. You got to see hope realized. You got to see despair dispelled.

Even if you desperately hate the Orange Menace, you can ruefully say “the people are going to get what they wanted, good and hard”. Sometimes the people make mistakes. That’s OK, there is no free will without the risk of error.

Even if Trump fails at everything he tries (and surely a lot of people hope and pray for that very thing) he’s already done the most important thing. Trump demonstrated the will of the people mattered.

Here we are in January and it’s like society wants you to ignore that event. It was only a few months ago. You’re nudged to be that trucker. “Get this load of toasters to Wichita and nothing else matters. No peeking at the sky. Do not experience what is happening all around you. Never stop to wonder what it all means. Do not simply be happy. Do not simply be. ‘They’ control everything.”

Drones over New Jersey. A 1,500 page “continuing resolution”. Elon shot his mouth off about H1B. Everyone quickly formulated strong opinions about Greenland. One last gasp of lawfare out of New York City; “guilty of something ill defined with a penalty of nothing”. California is on fire…

All that will be “old news” in a month. Most of it doesn’t matter and never did. Most of it is a distraction.

Rather than distractions, please remember a moment you personally experienced. Savor it. Six days hence, barring another assassin, it’ll be too late to stop the truck and gaze in wonder at the pretty thing that’s happening. All will descend into mundane politics. Taxes and filibusters and parties acting like petulant children. Before that happens… make sure you got the true and full experience. Breathe it in. Keep it for the long dark times that inevitably fall into all lives.

The next eclipse might be a long time coming.

Pics or it didn’t happen right? I present to you “The Wages of Sin”… or at least nature’s punishment for not putting shit off the ground before it freezes down. That’s a Jet Sled… with some grass froze to it.

It’s tied to the tractor with rope… like I’m a damn caveman. And what’s this?

If you said “a live mouse sitting above the drawbar” you’d be right. Remember this is an idling tractor that has just spent an hour plowing snow… little dude must have ridden all that way!

Me: “Get off my tractor.”

Mouse: “No, you get off my tractor!”

Me: “That’s better, hop off before I smite your ass.”

Mouse: “Oh yeah fatboy? I’ll climb up your arm and chew your ear off. This is my tractor!”

I made a swipe at him but he was too fast. I have named him “Reginald the Tractor Mouse” and if I get my hands on him he’s going to get flung as far as I can throw a mouse. He ran back into the idling tractor. He’s probably chewing my tractor’s wiring.

The sled worked. It’s not stupid if it works.

Back at the garage I put the snowbucket on old 2″x4″ and the Jet Sled on the bucket. I also lifted the “hood” on the tractor because that’ll freeze down too if I’m not careful.

This isn’t my first rodeo; but I fucked up.

Last year I experimented with cutting firewood normally but “seasoning” it in IBC totes. I bought three. I need 12 but I have 3… one has to start somewhere. I love them! Stacking (ok tossing) cut and split wood into a tote is easier than stacking elsewhere. Plus I created a makeshift roof on two of them. The roofs kept the wood reasonably dry.

To mover the totes, I bought the world’s cheapest and sketchiest pallet forks for my tractor. It works though it sags threateningly. It seems a little dangerous because the metal is just not strong enough. However, I think if it catastrophically fails it won’t damage the tractor and that’s all that matters. All that’ll happen (I hope) is a half ton of firewood hits the ground.

During the summer I used the forks to move the filled totes to the middle of an empty field and let the sun cook ’em. At the beginning of the winter I used the forks to pick up the whole, loaded, tote and bring them right to my house. It’s like magic. I can “pick up” a loaded tote without leaving the cab and the tote is a fairly large amount of wood. By my guess, 3 totes is about a cord, meaning one tote is about a “face cord”. That’s equivalent to a stack of stove bolts 4′ high and 8′ long. Yeah! I can “pick up and carry” an 8′ long “wall” of wood all in one fell swoop. The tree totes lasted ’till last week. I sure wish I had more!

Now I’m back to pulling wood off a “wall” and tossing it into a transport thing (like a “carry all” on the back of my tractor) and dragging that smaller amount which already took a lot of effort to the house, where I have to move the blocks of wood again. I can see the IBC totes saving my ass as I age.

The beginning of the month was rainy, wet, and slushy. But not too cold and not a lot of snow. I was happy because I don’t have much firewood and want to stretch it as far as I can. Also whenever it’d December and you don’t have to plow snow, you should rejoice! Eventually it dropped to -15. Yikes! But it still didn’t snow so I didn’t worry about plowing. Then last week snow hit and I needed to plow ASAP.

I was still setup with the tractor’s load bucket. Usually I’ve plowed at least once a month earlier. Luck me for having a little reprieve! I rolled the tractor out to where my snowbucket has been sitting since march. I dropped the small (and not all that good for snow) loader bucket and hooked up to the snowbucket. (The snowbucket can’t carry a fuckin’ thing, including firewood, but it’s hot shit for moving snow.)

The snowbucket was froze down.

Ouch! Not “froze a little bit” but “froze so hard the tractor’s rear tires pull a reverse wheelie if you try to lift the fuckin’ bucket”. I pondered a bit on how to “pull the sword out of the stone” but gave up and went to plan B. A crappy old rear blade. I ditched the pallet forks rear implement (I’d already used up all the wood in my small “fleet” of 3 totes), backed up to the rear blade, put on all the arms of the 3 point hitch (with much grunting and shoving), and then climbed back into the cab.

When one thing is froze to the ground all things are froze to the ground.

Dammit! I know it’s important to get shit off the ground in case of freeze. I’d simply forgotten. My mowers are sitting on railroad ties, which did me no good if I needed other implements. (I think I need more railroad ties.)

I laboriously unhitched the three point and went back to messing with the snowbucket. I put a heater on it and dumped some boiling water (well aware that boiling water turns anything it doesn’t solve into an even worse problem). I was at it an hour or so to no avail.

I decided I’d try one more time. If it didn’t work I’d go out the next day and start a fucking fire in the snowbucket… it’s all metal after all. That would nuke the paint but it’s a farm implement and life is hard.

The bucket, sensing I was about to get medieval on it’s ass, relented. It lifted free of the frozen grass and ice. Awesome!

Front loader attachments for my tractor have two safety levers. You push these down to engage two pins to make sure the bucket is locked on tight. It’s the same as Bobcat buckets.

Neither lever budged. Probably more ice.

I started plowing gingerly… with a snowbucket that was technically “sitting on” and not “hitched to” the loader arms. Life isn’t an OSHA manual.

By then the tractor was almost out of fuel. Dammit!

I plowed one wavering, half-assed path down my driveway out to the road (which was icy as shit!). This allowed Mrs. Curmudgeon to get home without busting trail over drifts.

Then gave up. I parked my tractor in the garage (with the snowbucket still attached). I was beat. I set the snowbucket down on 2×4 scraps so it wouldn’t freeze to my garage floor. That’s something I usually do, I’d just forgot.

The next day I fed the tractor 5 gallons of #1 diesel and plowed for real. I got one lever down so I was only 1/2 out of OSHA specs.

Now it was time to get firewood and I was all out of IBC totes (which was fine because I’d already ditched the pallet forks).

I have a “carry all”. It’s a little load bearing platform that fits on a 3 point hitch at the rear of the tractor. I use it for carrying firewood. I pulled up to my carry all and nudged it with the snow bucket. Nothing. It was froze as solid as everything else.

OK genius, now what?

I could swap back to the load bucket (which is fine for carrying small loads of wood) but I’d just about killed myself getting the snow bucket mounted. I didn’t have the heart to go backwards.

I backed up to my woodshed and tossed a Jet Sled on the ground. A “jet sled” is a load carrying plastic sled. Basically the same as a kid’s sled except ten times stronger and much heavier. They’re usually used by ice fishermen, sometimes towed by ATVs and snowmobiles. (My old ATV is currently dead).

As I was loading the sled, a “tractor mouse” crawled out and watched me from the PTO shaft housing. I don’t like mice in my tractor. Mice don’t value my opinion. They also don’t like it when I turn their home into a loud moving death machine. The mouse was looking at me like “what the fuck dude, you’re driving my house around!” I wound up shouting at him… yes shouting at a mouse. “Can’t you live in the firewood like all the fucking chipmunks?”

I made a grab for him but missed. He darted right back into the tractor, where he is no doubt chewing on the most expensive wires he can find.

Then I used a 35 HP 4×4 tractor with a snowbucket to pull a tiny little sled’s worth of wood. It was stupid, on the other hand, it worked.

If it works it’s not stupid.

At the house where I load my firewood, there was an old IBC tote. It was recently emptied and it probably only weighs 50 pounds empty. Easy to push out of the way. I nudged it with the tractor. Didn’t budge an inch. Because of course it was froze down too. GOod grief!

I couldn’t drive all the way so I had to manhandle the sled the last few yards.

It’s probably not going to thaw for weeks… or months. Me and that sled are going to be spending some time together. That’s just how it is, things happen not like you imagine but how nature intends. Important shit is froze down. Unimportant shit is froze down in places that are annoying. Mice are plotting against me. Etc…

Despite the drama involved, it’s good to have a warm fire. Merry Christmas.

There’s nothing deep about today’s post. Don’t think I’m going to philosophize about “peace and love” or anything like that. Today is a depth free day!

A zillion years ago I almost bought a 3d printer. I did due diligence and researched it. I was broke and low on time and decided not to.

At the time, it seemed like 3d printers were in their infancy. Many were probably awesome but some sounded glitchy. (Remember, this is years ago.) I’d read posts of people struggling to turn out their first “Benchy”. (“Benchy” is a little toy boat that has features 3d people use to analyze their printer’s performance.) Various discussions delved into the deepest rabbit holes of FDM (fused deposition modeling) and there was CAD and G-code and all sorts of fascinating but daunting errata. The learning curve might well have been a cliff to climb.

I didn’t need another rabbit hole lined up with my HAM radios, and soldering irons, and welding kits, and garden, and tractor, and… well you get the point. I decided to wait.

But now is the time!

I just bought my very first 3d printer. It “feels” different than my research from many years ago. My new gadget is fun and “user friendly”. I don’t much know what I’m doing, yet the technology itself has matured sufficiently to drag my ignorant ass across the finish line.

Oh sure, the frontier is still there. Which is awesome! I look forward to learning cool things so I can make cooler stuff. I’ll surely play with the edges as I get more experience. There’s almost literally no limit; you can master 3d modeling, and “slicer” settings, and materials science, and all that… but one does not have to start out on “hard mode”.

I’ll start out making a pencil box and (if I stay motivated) progression to carbon fiber exhaust manifolds is up to me. None of that formerly brutal learning curve right at the beginning. (Also, a lot of people seem happy to make Christmas tree ornaments and tchotchkes; and that’s ok. If you want to top out making elf figurines and fidget spinners there’s nothing wrong with that.)

I’ve only had the thing a week and it’s just a blast. I’m happily flinging cheap reliable filament at easy, tested, models… and it works.

The results are spectacular. It really surprises me. Everything I’ve made so far has had at least the same fit and finish as an object you’d buy at WalMart and maybe better. The stuff I’m making isn’t heirloom quality but it’s not all striated and “gunky” either. So far, the things even a n00b like me can create look “commercially manufactured, consumer level, pretty good”.

I’m officially declaring “now” as the era when 3D printers have reached that sweet spot in technology; the moment when you can be an idiot and still use it happily.

I purchased a Bambulabs A1 Combo. The link goes to Amazon, if you buy anything from the link I get a few bucks and it costs you nothing. All printers are not the same. For a flat out beginner I recommend the path I’m taking.

Here’s a photo I grabbed from the Bambulabs website, so you know what I’m talking about.

Some notes:

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.

It’s not the cheapest printer. You can get cheaper 3d printers which are (probably) just as good… but harder to use. There’s a value to “idiot proof” (or at least “idiot resistant”) and I was willing to pay it. The “ease of use” of this mad scientist’s tool has blown my mind.

It’s not the most powerful printer. If you’re running a business or have special skills you might want more. Temperature proof, nearly indestructible, super precise, exotic material prints might be hard on an “entry level” printer. Then again if you’re doing shit that specialized you don’t need to entertain some rando’s advice about your chosen skillset.

Multiple filaments turns the dial to 11! The “combo” has a hot shit, materials handling feature that completely changes the game. The “combo” is not just a 3d printer but an AMS. The AMS is a funky looking gadget that allows the printer to pick and chose from four different filaments. It does this, on the fly, and (within reason) automagically. I’m cranking out 4 color prints and all I’ve done is just click on builds and indicate which of 4 filaments to use. You don’t need multiple color / multiple material abilities, but it vastly expands your horizons.

Amazon has them on sale. But don’t be silly. Shop around. I bought mine directly from Bambulabs. One warning, it was shipped pretty slowly and that may be a Bambulabs thing more than an Amazon thing. I suspect buying from Bambulabs is slightly cheaper and buying from Amazon is slightly faster. YMMV. Also, buy a few spools of filament (usually well under $20) or you won’t have much fun with your new toy.

The Bambulabs Mini is cheaper and still good, but it can’t print big stuff. I didn’t buy the mini. I bought the full sized A1 printer. It can churn out anything that fits in about a 10″ cube. The Mini saves you about a c-note but can only make smaller things. Aside from the smaller build envelope, I’ve heard nothing wrong about the Mini. Both use the same AMS which is the real showstopper of the combo.

If you’ll only do mini-figurines, you might want resin. Most 3d printers pull plastic filament off spools and lay it down in layers. They can make mini-figurines that are “pretty good” (plus they can make “everything else”). Resin (a very different technology) is superior at mini-figurines. I’m talking “get out a magnifying glass and count the hairs on Gimli’s head” precision. If you’re extremely uptight and like mini-figurines you may want a resin printer. Resin printers use chemical goop and light; it’s a different animal. I think they limit you to one color but if you’re the kind of cat that wants to count the scales on Gimili’s armor you probably like painting mini-figures. (Note: the Bambulabs Mini is ideally sized for mini-figures but that assumes you can live with “very good but not blown away” quality.)

I’m not saying material goods are the point of Christmas. I’m just sayin’ there are times when a technology catches a wave. I feel like that happened for 3d printing with the A1 Combo. As always YMMV.

A.C.

P.S. Remember, Christmas isn’t about stuff. If an A1 Combo will break your bank don’t freak out. I waited over a decade and the technology only got better. Maybe cooling your jets will work for you as well as it did for me?

I’m working my ass off but posting very little; please be patient. Among many irons in the fire, Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels looms large. Progress has been made. I’ve never written a whole book and ending it has been hard. (I still have more shit to say!)

Regardless, I think folks will like it. I promise I’m not slacking off.

WTF am I talking about?

For those of you who aren’t long time readers of this blog, eight years ago I started writing a humorous serialized novel. It’s a satirical allegory about Lesbian Activist Squirrels. They’ve learned to harness the mind-control power of bullshit. They wreak havoc on their immediate surroundings and then double down by heading to Portland, the place where you go if you’ve screwed up in life, have no resources, and have no good plan. They were last seen en route to a heavily foreshadowed big boss battle.

I posted as I wrote; dozens of posts adding up to several hundred of pages. I wanted to make sure it’s a fun read and I humbly think I succeeded. But I’m a slow writer, so posts have been infrequent. (Forgive me for sounding like I take my self seriously as a writer of “literature”. I assure you, I don’t.)

Anyway, I started the story with a good heart and that’s still where I am. It was a small attempt to help us all lighten up. At the time of its inception, America was losing its shit over the looming, unavoidable, absolutely certain, completely without doubt, statistically guaranteed, coronation of Hillary Clinton. Remember her? Politics is always dirty but that the campaign “season” was the worst, ugliest, most overwrought, most propaganda laden, miserable festival of human indignity I’d yet experienced. (Little did I know what would follow!)

Too much bullshit was making everyone freak out. It’s ok to pay attention to politics but you shouldn’t let it drive you mad. I fretted that many people were taking politics too seriously, thus willing a horrific clusterfuck into being. (A situation that, in my opinion, came to pass.)

Our dog, a big white Great Pyrenes, challenged a black bear. The bear had been raiding my favorite bird feeder. I joked that the only possible reason a white dog would bark at a black bear was racism. Right now, I’m 650 pages and eight years into that joke!

The first bit went on-line during the time of Barak Obama. (Remember all the racial healing?) Every single event that happened, from the rising of the sun to one’s preference in breakfast cereal was attributed to racism. It was all so exhausting. I mocked it. Mockery turned out to be a good idea. I needed it. We all did.

Are you old enough to remember a time that was modestly more sane? I am. It wasn’t half bad! Folks were calm at least some of the time. There were gaps between election cycles. When the guy you liked lost, you could shrug your shoulders and think “better luck next time”. You could see a campaign speech and not wonder “will he be arrested or assassinated first”. I’m so old I remember when the FBI solved crimes (or at least appeared to) rather than perpetrating them. I’m so naïve I once believed we’d find out what the deal was with Epstein. Can you imagine?

Anyway, I wrote a few funny posts about the bear and it felt like saner times. Humor is a lifeline!

I kept writing and the story grew. Meanwhile, other sources of humor dried up. Hollywood crawled up its own ass. Saturday Night Live and the Tonight Show were early casualties. Seinfeld gave up going near college campuses. Chapelle was nearly crushed. J. K. Rowling only persists because she’s apparently unkillable.

Never stop laughing! Satire allows us to face truth.

Exactly four months ago, I wrote the ending to Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels. To decompress, I hopped on my dirtbike and rode across Wyoming. I’d written a rough draft. I know enough to let a story “rest” for a while and then edit the hell out of it.

Recently I re-edited the ending. As expected, I changed all sorts of shit. The major events remain the same but presentation, order, and details are all new… and better. Editing is hard. It takes time, but it’s worth it.

I’m not done but I’m closer. Now comes the final push…

I’m going to go over the book a couple more times this month and then move forward with logistics.

I have no idea how to format a POD book (POD = print on demand, i.e. actually printed on dead tree). Nor do I know how to format an Amazon Kindle file. I guess I’ll learn.

My plan is to sell both printed on paper and Kindle, probably through Amazon (it’s the the monopoly du jour, why fight it?). I might sell printed on paper, directly though my blog too.

It’s going to take a while to figure out all that formatting and stuff. I’m sorry, but I won’t have it done by Christmas. I tried but I’m just one guy (and I’ve got a day job!).

Up until Christmas Eve 2022, I’d posted very word of the story (several hundred pages). I also left it “live” on my blog. I wanted to continue that approach but Amazon won’t allow it. Something about “exclusively on Amazon and not on some rando’s blog”. Don’t blame me, I don’t make the rules.

As a first pass with compliance I shut down the index. Meaning what you could read before you can still read but it’s “hard to find”. I’m gonna’ take those pieces down but not yet. Part of that is I’m not a WordPress programmer and never found one I could hire.

But don’t fret. I’ve got an idea.

I’m going to check the rules carefully. Once I get things ready I’ll announce it. It’ll be “available for pre-order” or something like that. Plus I think I can sell anything I want on “dead tree” paper. (Still checking on that.)

Then, if I can, I think I’ll post all the pieces I’d already posted. Don’t think I’m holding out on ya’ that’s something like 141 posts! Plus there’s about 120 pages that have never seen the light of day!

I think I can comply by putting up a post and then taking it down, in succession, for all those pieces. A 1,500 word chunk goes live, then the next day or whatever, it vanishes and the next 1,500 word chunk follows. I’ve never heard of anyone else putting up a full novel that way. It’s a big undertaking, by my reckoning, it would be a post a day, every day for about six months. (I really could use a WordPress nerd.)

I really want it available for free (in addition to for sale), but I think this is all I can do if Amazon cracks the whip.

If all this sounds like the ravings of an unpublished author who needs to be hit with a clue by four… well maybe it is. At least you know:

1. I’m working on it and approaching done.
2. Sooner or later you’ll be able to read it.

Also, I hope y’all have a Merry Christmas. (If you insist instead on a Happy Holidays, I won’t stop you.)

A.C.

I’ve been limiting my exposure to politics. As a “gift” to you I’ve also tried to keep it off my blog. But I do want to explore a few concepts.

It’s important to do it now. The election was a month ago (except in the States that are still counting… which is another topic). We may never have a better chance than the present time.

“This has happened before.”

There is a whole vocabulary for what’s happening with America’s unstable governance. The reasons we don’t use the proper terms are three fold; American schools (deliberately) suck, a lot of people are idiots, and if we used the proper words we’d face the true nature of things. Denial is not just a river in Egypt, it’s what the whole world (not just America) is doing about their shaky governing bodies.

With a sense of reason, and a decent long term view maybe we could reflect on how political… um… unease… has been managed in times past.

You may think I’m silly mentioning this but I’m serious. Our lack of speaking the truth is because people are avoiding the truth. It’s harming our need to face and deal with reality. Pretending the elections of 2016 and 2024 (and the “election” of 2020) are unspeakable things that have never happened before is unwise. I want to put things in context:

This has happened before.

Right now, in the last month of 2024 Joe Biden is officially unquestionably the President of the United States. There is evidence of his power, like January 6th political prisoners and the fact he just pardoned his son.

Yet he’s not really the President is he? Nobody anywhere thinks Joe Biden is calling the shots. Right now, and perhaps for years and definitely since the debate on June 27, 2024, it’s clear that the Government is functioning without a President or with a limited half-time President.

The press knows it, you know it, I know it, my dog knows it… yet we don’t say it aloud. Which is self-defeating.

There’s a word for what is going on right now.

Regency: The Joe Biden “Presidency” is currently a regency.

A regent is a person (or group) that act on the king’s behalf. This can be totally legit or it can be unspeakably corrupt.

For the most legit case, maybe the old king died and his successor, for example his eldest son, is too young. Suppose the Prince is nine. Everyone knows a nine year old can’t run shit. (Except of course weirdos who would take their word about gender transitioning… which is another topic.)

Everyone knows a child-Prince can’t run things. More importantly, people in the past weren’t stupid enough to pretend otherwise. A regent handles things. Ideally this is temporary; until such time as the little tyke grows up. Maybe the Regent is a well meaning committee of excellent people who do their best. Maybe they’re power hungry scumbags who get involved in a land war in Asia.

Maybe the emergent child becomes a powerful leader like William the Conqueror or an immoral madman like Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus (Caligula). Bad leadership is nothing new.

Very often the young Prince and/or his Regents wind up dead. Assassination is nothing new. Indeed assassination was tried against Trump at least twice in the last few months.

Power corrupts and thus many Regencies are complete disasters. Here’s a fictional example. King Richard the Lionheart wanted to do some crusading so he left his brother John in charge. The King can do that. But should he? John was a dickhead! John fucked up so bad the populace suffered. When things went too far, a deplorable hunter in fly-over country started using his unregistered assault bow to mess with the Sheriff of Nottingham.

When the King or his Regent sucks, Robin Hood is generated because he has to exist. “Fuck Joe Biden” stickers spontaneously appear on every work truck because we had a popular President?

The worst part about a Regency is that you don’t really know who’s in charge, or why.

Sometimes the King (in this fictional case a Sultan) is a really nice guy but also gullible enough to fall for anything. Here’s Jafar, the Sultan’s most trusted advisor:

Sometimes the King was formerly awesome but is now so harassed and manipulated that he’s weak and his kingdom suffers. Here’s Gríma Wormtongue, chief advisor to King Théoden of Rohan.

Sometimes the Regent is less obviously a usurper and more like a “fiction”. It’s common that the Regent isn’t officially a Regent but rather some part of the upper levels of governance. They seize power secretly and pretend the real King is still running things legitimately.

Why? Probably because they want to stay in power. Like all people lusting for power, they probably thought it best “for the people” that they run things… secretly if necessary. Every idiot out there thinks the best person to be in power is themselves.

In the end, turning down power is rare. It has got to be the hardest thing ever. Which is why it happens so rarely:

I’m not saying it’s impossible. One of the meanest, nastiest, most hard core Roman Emperors was Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletianus. After a lifetime of absolutely shitmixing anyone who opposed him, Diocletian did something Emperors almost never did; he retired. That’s right; the dude that ruled like an absolute motherfucker in his desire to keep the Roman Empire from collapsing… retired. No knife in the back for Diocletian. I’m pretty sure he was unkillable. He prepared for peaceful transition with a thing called “tetrarchy” and then got the fuck outta’ Rome.

Rome being a corrupt cesspool immediately few into civil war. People tried to get Diocletian to come back and restore order. Diocletian was capable of turning down unlimited power. In one of the most epic statements in human history he said “fuck off, I’m raising a garden”.

“If you could show the cabbage that I planted with my own hands to your emperor, he definitely wouldn’t dare suggest that I replace the peace and happiness of this place with the storms of a never-satisfied greed.”

Diocletian had the ring of power, used it to beat the crap out of anyone who crossed him, and then tossed it into Mount Doom.

Think American Presidents can live up to that? Not a chance! For example, America’s 28th president was Woodrow Wilson:

In October 1919 president Wilson had a stroke. Dude was incapacitated. For the next 18 months the president’s condition was hidden from the public. Until to the end of Wilson’s term, first lady Edith Wilson ran the show. She looks tough. I wouldn’t mess with her:

Edith Wilson, with no official power at all, basically ran the US Presidency. Because fuck the rules, that’s why.

You think that’s just old timey sepia toned history? It’s not. What would’ve happened if Bill Clinton had a stroke… you think Hillary wouldn’t go full apeshit at the whiff of power?

On paper, America has methods to deal with the peaceful transition of power. By design, when the President becomes incapacitated power shifts to the Vice President. Except, people in power seem to always be snakes. As far as I can tell, the only time America’s power goes to the Vice President (without a shitload of complaints) is if something huge and undeniable happens. Here’s a photo of the last time everyone agreed to switch from President to Vice President without bitching (and that shit is horrible!):

We end up with a Regency in a system that’s built for a Vice President to peacefully take over because the leadership isn’t moral enough, the press lies, and the populace indulges in denial.

Doubt me? This is President Joe Biden from only 26 months ago. Does he look like a pleasant, reasonable man. Would that red tinted, Marine flanked, disaster invite a logical discussion about his popularity? Just look at him:

Notwithstanding the barking dog in the photo above, Biden has been hidden from public view for years. As with Woodrow Wilson, who was more or less bedridden but the fact was hidden from the populace, so too was Biden’s physical condition. (I know; most of my readers were well aware the guy had gone full potato. But that’s us. It took a long time for everyone else to use up their ability to deny the obvious.)

When denial ends, it often ends abruptly. This is a photo of Joe Biden on from five months ago. Just look at him:

On June 25th the President was reported to be healthy, fit, awesome, wise, and in charge. In fact, he was a super awesome candidate to win re(?)election for another four years. On June 26th the people saw something the press couldn’t explain away. Yet even then, a simple orderly transfer of power from President to Vice President required things our ruling cabal couldn’t manage.

The ideal situation for when America’s President goes full potato on live TV is a good Vice President. Right now, we don’t have that. Here’s a photo from last week. Look at this thing:

She could have been the actual President. All the rules are written that way. The corruption of the people that elevated her to where she is now, is the corruption that stopped her from getting the big chair.

Thus we wait out the Biden legacy… a open-secret half-assed Regency despite perfectly good transition plans in the Constitution.

Every single living being, including dumb things like college students and houseplants, knows Biden is incapable of running things. We can only hope the Regents don’t fuck things up… or at least fuck up more than they already have…. whoever they are.

Luckily, 53 days from now we get new leadership. A cause of optimism is that the new dude, in all his Orangeness, was absolutely certainly chosen by “the people”. The twerps in DC hate him. They voted 94% with the party that was willing to do absolutely anything, moral or immoral, legal or not, to stop him. That’s how you know D.C. is corrupt.

D.C. has been running a Regency for years and it’s almost done. Clinging to power without earning consent of the governed lasts until it doesn’t. Every molecule of D.C.’s lost power came about by the people exercising theirs.

I for one prefer a real President to the asshattery we’ve been experiencing. Yet I’m enjoying the waning days of America’s unofficial, undefined, ill-fated, Regency. I like to see corrupt people’s plans fail. Not knowing who’s running things was brutal in 2022 but with only 53 days left it’s fun to watch the rats on the sinking ship.

I had a great Thanksgiving. I hope you did too.

Is it too soon to wish y’all a Merry Christmas? If so, forgive me.