Adaptive Curmudgeon

Warning: Political Content.  You are encouraged to ignore it.

Every time I go on an extended wilderness trip and/or disconnect from communication (which is more often than you’d think) I’m hesitant to go back on the grid. As I said in Off Grid I:

The dark side of “off grid” is going back “on”. Sometimes I come back “on grid” to discover people have gone full Technicolor stupid in only a few days. I’ve returned to crashed markets, exploded shuttles, the O.J. Simpson murder, and discovering countries nobody cared about when I left are an undeclared shooting war in our “vital interest” on my return.

Which brings me to the thoughts of a few days ago.  It was dawn and I’d just eaten an excellent breakfast of broiled fish and hot coffee.  (I make excellent coffee while camping and make sure to season it with a heaping dose of whiskey.)  The skies looked clear and inviting.  I suspected the fish bite might come back for a last hurrah by noon’s light.  I was rested, relaxed, and smelled like a man who hadn’t taken a shower in far too long.  All was well with the world.

Alas it was my last morning.  By sunset I’d be in my truck.  By midnight I’d be 300 miles away, in a different state, time zone, and universe.  Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Also; what had “they” done in my absence?

It’s an election cycle and the incumbent is as desperate as the challenger is uninspiring.  Nobody in power would benefit from the dog days of summer winding down in peace and harmony.  Something had surely gone down.

A mass shooting with the attendant police state expansion?  That didn’t seem likely.  A company I never knew suddenly too big to fail and the attendant little death by auto-erotic asphyxiation of what’s left of the economy.  (Think AIG and GM.)  Nah, that seems dated and both parties are whistling past the graveyard with debt.  Gas prices spike and everyone loses their shit?  Nope, folks have been pretty supine about gas prices in 2012.  Occupy Wall Street?  Nope, I once thought they’d resurrect in 2012 but I was wrong.  A movement of losers, they seem to have the lasting power of New Coke.

Finally I had my guess.  War.  I fleshed out my prediction.  It would be somewhere that has produced virtually nothing important in a century… except oil.  Probably a nation of theocratic oppression.  First there would be civil unrest from people who have no rights.  Then they’d break shit and blame America for their tragically limited lives.  Then the guns would come out and both American political parties would collude to get us mired in another horseshit argument between rival groups of assholes.  America would be globally blamed for everything from the unemployment to the weather and people would somehow have lots of pre-manufactured flags ready to burn.  (Who sells the flags?  Do pissed off people keep stocks of American flags?  I certainly don’t have stocks of foreign flags handy for when I feel like rioting.)  It would have to be a really nasty place that hippies love.  The kind of dump where women wear Glad bags and gays get stoned while Berkley elites explain the moral relativism of their actions.  Obama, who is Carter without the sweater, would avoid Iran like the plague and Israel will eventually handle them anyway.  So I ruled out Iran as well as Afghanistan and Iraq.  Hmmm.  Syria.

I’d get in my truck, turn on the radio, and find us at war.  In Syria.  War in the middle east?  Somehow that’s less unexpected than AIG.

I hoisted my pack and set off to fish for a last few precious hours.

Back in town I turned on the radio.  The usual dog and pony show had indeed gone down.  In broad strokes my absence was marked by anti-American riots in Egypt and a Libyan ambassador beaten to death while the consulate burned.

I think I predicted reasonably close.  I’ll admit that both locations have a lower “women in Glad bags” index than Syria.  On the other hand neither of them has anything approaching freedom of press, religion, or much else.  Neither has produced anything of merit for decades.  (Can Libya manufacture anything?  Can Egypt export anything more complex than olive oil?)  Aren’t these the shining stars of the “Arab Spring” so lauded around the Prius and Whole Foods set?

I’ll also admit that we’re not doing Jack Squat about it.  (I hear Carter cackling in the wind.)  This happens to mean my “war” prediction was incorrect. Which is good news.

On the other hand there  are about 196 countries in the world and I almost picked the right one.  Shocking eh?  The world is roughly 25,000 miles at the equator.  It’s less than 700 miles from Damascus (Syria) to Suez (Egypt).  (Google happens think it’s insurmountable and route around the whole Mediterranean for 4,000 + miles.)  Geographically my error is 2.8% (700/25000).  Not bad for a redneck sitting on a rock in the wilderness.  The CIA could ditch their global operations and just buy me a coffee once in a while.

How could a clueless blogger call it that close?  Lets turn that around and ask, how can this surprise anyone with a pulse?

I have no special knowledge but even a moron can discern certain patterns.  Half of the pattern is a bunch theocratic douchebags that oppress people.  They have perfected  the successful gambit of blaming America (or Israel) for their manifest failures.  Their people, exposed to generations of propaganda, are buying it hook, line, and sinker.  Here’s a hint, if your cat barfs on the rug in Aswan (Egypt) and you think America (or Israel) is the cause, you’re an embarrassment to yourself and your society.  The other half are American elites (both parties) who make a living pretending that theocratic jackoffs are “moderates” and evil does not exist.  Here’s a hint; evil does exist and if you don’t accept that you’re useless.

Meanwhile the usual fools are playing their accustomed parts.  The press is emoting over whether a “riot” that involves RPGs and happened on 9/11 is “spontaneous”.  A hapless yahoo who made a you tube video has been dragged off in handcuffs.  Nice example of freedom of speech for Americans in their home country.  What’s your encore?  Talking heads meanwhile are getting the vapors with Mitt Romney speaking too “stridently” and it’s interference with Obama’s (awesome?) “diplomacy”.  Here’s a hint; when RPGs are involved diplomacy has failed.  Above all quit feeding me shit about a crowd dancing around a burning building (which they lit) and their heroic efforts to drag a mortally wounded ambassador to the hospital.  C’mon journalists, even in an election cycle you at least have to pretend to be serious.  Nobody drinks that much kool-aid and even my dog won’t buy it.

Take home message?  This is all theatre.  It’s tragic that anyone (including the ambassador) should die in violence.  It’s pathetic to imprison a You Tube “videographer”.  It’s pathetic to decide which speech is most relevant as the ashes of a consulate smoulder.  But no matter how sad the price to be paid, it’s all for show.

Don’t take the bait.  The shit shall flow deep for another few months and none of it will be real.  Keep the TV on a short leash and go fishing as much as possible.  And thank goodness we’re not at war.  I’m not sure how that happened but it’s good news.

P.S.  None of this taints the excellent fishing trip.  Thanks to all who asked because I had an excellent time!

I came. I saw. I fished.

This photo isn’t me. Also remember this kids; the surgeon general warns that corncob pipes should never be smoked when they’re bigger than your spleen.

Everything seems to be on an even keel.  Even, shockingly, politics.  Despite my “self imposed media blockout” I did notice that the MSM grudgingly admitted during the Republican National Convention that their sworn enemy doesn’t actually have horns and a pitchfork.  Nor has the presses pet party done anything too unusual.  An outbreak of reasonableness?  Nah…it’s just the last of the dog days of summer.

I have finally finished butchering the chickens and the woodpile is (almost) up to my standards of “attacked by glaciers” readiness.  An outbreak of efficiency?  Nah…it’s just the dog days of summer.

I’m rewarding myself by going camping.  I expect the nation to keep it’s shit together for a few weeks more (before election manufactured crises crank up) and am desperately hoping I don’t come back from the woods to discover some company I never heard of is now a subsidized cornerstone of the whole economy (I’m looking at you AIG).  It’s possible.  Even likely.

While I’m camping I’m going to have one and only one thought about politics; “as of today nobody really knows who will be president next year”.  I’m happy that we have contested elections.  Even if we have to pick between a socialist and a walking coma at least the outcome is not pre-ordained.  Is that not awesome? Go America!

That thought will last about ten minutes.  The rest of the time I will have forgotten the outside world exists.  There’s nothing like a fishing pole to put the world in perspective.

See ya’ all (figuratively) when I get back.

…and surf elsewhere because I’m too lazy to blog right now.

I burned all my energy butchering chickens and it’s nap time for me.  I suppose my muscles will ache less knowing it was a worse day for the chickens than it was for me.

…that love is what makes a Subaru.

Really?

I prefer vehicles made out of metal. It’s a shame because a Subaru made of metal might appeal to me but one made of love smells like bullshit.

Moreover I’m wearing deodorant that is supposed to smell like wilderness, open air, and freedom.  Apparently something has gone wrong because I’ve been working all day in the open air, and all I can smell is sweat.  (Which is an honest smell and far less annoying than bullshit.)

Speaking of annoying bullshit; political ads are the irrelevant distilled essence of bullshit painted on a solid block of condescension which is then delivered, screeching like a cat in heat, upside your head.  As if an audio visual suppository is supposed to make me like someone?  Why?  I will not vote for either hope or change any more than I’d buy a car made of love or wipe my armpit with wilderness.

On the other hand I have driven several cars which cause me to experience Fahrvergnügen.  One was even a Volkswagen.  I sure loved that car; which was made (as all cars should be) out of metal.

I invented Obamacare Bingo(1) but this is even better!

Brilliant!

As always you should Listen to Uncle Jay.

(1) No you may not see the Obamacare bingo cards.  You’ll just have to live through it.

Recently I was hauling a half ton of (free!) firewood. My redneck-mobile was on cruise control and I was happily chugging along at roughly the speed limit. Not too fast but I wasn’t oozing down the road like an anemic Prius either. I was on a spacious two lane divided highway which was almost devoid of traffic; the perfect all-American paved environment I love so much.

I was mentally tallying my firewood inventory as if firewood (acquired for free!) were immensely valuable. When it comes to heaps of firewood I’m practically Scrooge McDuck.

What a marvelous day. The skies were sunny and my chainsaw had run like a top. Did I mention the wood was free? I couldn’t wait to get home and fire up my wood splitter. Free wood and a good truck. All was right with the world.

I caught up with a couple of sweet motorcycle cruisers. (It’s Sturgis season and their migratory activity is at it’s fullest.) I gawked at their superb styling as my truck cranked past in the left lane.

I had an interesting thought. “How is it that I’m swooping past them on cruise control?” Indeed my lumbering oversized truck had floated past all that gorgeous chrome like they were a couple of tricycles. Oh well.

I’m not a speed demon but when I’m on my motorcycle I wouldn’t generally let a heap of firewood ditch me on a highway. The solution was obvious. They weren’t wearing helmets. I’ve ridden my motorcycle with and (rarely) without a helmet. I know from experience that exposing your cranium to highway speeds tends to tire you out and encourage you to slow down. (You’d expect the force of the wind to be the main factor but I think it’s the noise. The roaring wind is almost visceral once you’re going Interstate speeds.)

My motorcycle (despite being a cruiser) is deliberately outfitted with a windshield and subtle ergonomic gadgetry. It was intended to reduce fatigue but a secondary benefit is that I can comfortably run at slightly higher speeds. The two wheeled artwork I’d just passed was the opposite. Ape hanger bars, forward controls, chrome doo dads at odd angles, leather fringes, and lowered rear suspensions; all the special touches that made them “unique” gave them the ergonomics of a proctology exam. I lost them in the rear view mirror and forgot they existed.

Five minutes later the bikes came up behind me like their ass was on fire. They passed at full throttle (which is massive overkill for overtaking a load of firewood). The racket was enormous. I rolled up my window to block out the painful sound.

Then, in a spectacular combination of stupid and annoying, they lurched back into the right lane close in front of me. It was as if they wanted nothing better than to test out my deer guard with their ass. I switched off the cruise control and started easing back. I don’t need the hassle of picking some loser’s femur out of my radiator.

My only thought was “what the hell makes the front of my truck so attractive?” They must have asked the same question. One of them glanced in the mirror and (presumably) realized he couldn’t see anything but my license plate at the level of his head. He apparently decided that “flattened by a truck” was a bad life plan and laid on the throttle. All this did was send out another barrage of ear splitting shrieks. The other bike followed. Once they’d created an epic shitload of sonic waves they finally found enough spare power to drag themselves of my truck’s kill zone.

Only when they were far ahead did I stop cursing the noise. I also hit “resume” on the cruise control. Ten miles later I passed them again. Apparently they just couldn’t hold highway speeds for long. They once again receded in the rear view mirror and I never saw them again.

. . .

The only thing that offended me was that one of the bikers had slapped a bumper sticker on his rear fender. The horror! A bumper sticker on that gorgeous bike? Why not add a tramp stamp to the Mona Lisa?

What did the bumper sticker say? “Loud pipes save lives.”

I call bullshit! You know what saves lives? Staying the hell away from the grill of a six ton truck. That’s what saves lives!

I call more bullshit! You know what else saves lives? Helmets. Yeah they suck. Nobody wants to ruin their moment of freedom and glory by wearing a skull condom. Too bad because helmets actually save lives. Splitting your cranium like an overripe melon when you highside is the exact opposite of “saving lives”. I don’t care if someone does or does not wear a helmet but I do care if someone is spreading bullshit. Balancing ones eggshell thin skull on a wobbly biped’s neck at 70 MPH while emoting about safety is utter and complete nonsense.

I call even more bullshit! You know what else saves lives? Volvos. No motorcycle, no matter how glorious the chrome, is as safe as the cheapest Volvo. If you’re really enthused about saving lives (especially your own) strap your ass in a Volvo. Wallow in the luxurious life saving joy of seat belts, crumple zones, reinforced door panels, anti-lock brakes, and air bags. That stuff is real, honest to God, life saving technology.

Which brings me back to loud pipes. Loud pipes are loud. That’s all they are. They’re no more related to safety than a generic barbed wire tattoo on a bicep.

I hate rationalization. If you want loud pipes have at it. (Though keeping them quieter than a screeching chainsaw being raped by a mutant amplified bagpipe would show a hint of good character.) Quit trying to come up with some bullshit safety based pretzel logic to explain that you installed “bitchin’ loud thunder pipes” for safety. Nobody on planet earth is fooled by your dumbass rationalizations so just quit pretending. Enjoy loud pipes because it’s fun to be obnoxiously loud. How hard is that?

Thanks.

A.C.

P.S. And seriously…a bumper sticker? You’ve got to be kidding me.

…something odd about this post:

Angry Vermont farmer crushes 7 police cruisers with tractor

“…Orleans County sheriff’s deputies didn’t know what was happening in their parking lot until a neighbor called 911.

A man on a big farm tractor, angry about his recent arrest for resisting arrest and marijuana possession, was rolling across their vehicles — five marked cruisers, one unmarked car and a transport van.”

It was not the obvious; that a guy with a tractor was running amok.  (Actually I’m jealous that his tractor runs.)

What caught my attention was this:

“…the vehicles destroyed constituted more than half the fleet of sheriff’s cruisers in the rural county on the Canadian border. Others were out on patrol at the time of the incident.”

This means the Sheriff’s office has just under 14 vehicles (I’ll charitably estimate an even dozen) and 50% (six?) were on patrol on a given day.

Six on patrol and a fleet of a dozen?  In Vermont?  Have you been to rural Vermont?  I have.

I did some simple research.  The county has a population of 27,231. This means the Sheriff has one vehicle per 2,269 people. (27231/12=2269)  The county has about 10,000 households.  Thus I calculate that the Sheriff can field one vehicle for every 871 households. (10446/12=870.5)

One vehicle per 2,269 people? One cruiser for less than a thousand households? That’s just the County Sheriff. What about the State and Local police forces?  Plus that far north will have some Border Patrol.  Does the Sheriff need tanks too?  Is he worried the Canadians might invade?

Folks, this isn’t Manhattan.  870 households can often be served by one guy who plows the streets in winter and serves as dog catcher in his spare time.  A dozen Sheriff’s cruisers is a whole lotta’ firepower to protect handfuls of skiers and ice fishermen.

I could be wrong.  Maybe Vermont is surprisingly neck deep in meth-heads, hoodlums, and attacking alien spacecraft.  Perhaps the Crips and Bloods are having gang battles amid sugar maples

Perhaps they’re over policed. Yes, crushing cruisers with a tractor is a crime but nobody was hurt so I like to think of it as an unhinged farmer culling a tax grazing herd.

Ht. to Living Freedom

Given the choice, there are places I’d rather visit than Chicago.  For example, Chernobyl or Marquis De Sade’s basement.  Sadly, I was forced to travel through Chicago; or as I like to call it Modor in the Midwest.

Fortunately I can limit my exposure to Chicago by rocketing through in my big redneck truck.  Aside from an economy based entirely on tollbooths and traffic jams it’s tolerable if I just keep moving.  In fact I’ve made it a game.  I never set foot in Chicago itself and go out of my way to spend as little money as possible (i.e. nothing but tolls) in the entire state.  (One has time to think of such games when they’re crawling along in Chicago traffic.)

The worst part is a feeling that I’m in enemy territory.  The place makes a libertarian’s skin crawl.  I know that gun control and taxes can’t leap up my pantleg and infect me with a zombie like desire to annoy and regulate but I just can’t shake the feeling that it would explain a lot.  Better not to take the chance.

However, this was the week of Chicken Sandwich politics; another example of Modor’s Chicago’s bullshit.  For those of you who live under a rock (like me!) I’ll summarize below.  (Note, I’m quoting from a random press article just to keep things grounded.  You’ve already probably heard the whole things.  The facts aren’t in play, only the reaction.)

It starts with a guy with a deeply held personal moral code.  Like all Americans he’s free to have whatever opinion he wishes.

“…Chick-fil-A President Dan Cathy, who reaffirmed his belief in the “biblical” definition of marriage during a two separate media interviews in the past month. Cathy told the Baptist Press he was ‘guilty as charged’ of supporting traditional marriage and denouncing gay marriage.”

So Dan Cathy has a moral code and he’s quaint enough to say it aloud.  In the recent past it would be no big deal.  There was a time when folks were encouraged to form moral codes and act accordingly.  (Am I dating myself when I say that?)

Of course this is the modern era when the only approved morality is the one that comports with a certain side of the political spectrum.  Enter a pair of duchebags:

“Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel is attempting to block the fast food chain from expanding in his city, saying ‘Chick-fil-A’s values are not Chicago values.’ The chain isn’t welcome in Boston either, according to a letter written by Mayor Thomas M. Menino, in which he pledges to stonewall Chick-fil-A from opening an outlet in the city limits.”

Interesting.  I had no idea that Mayor Rahm Emanuel had the delegated authority to determine the values of all citizens of Chicago.  Does it say that on the city charter?  Or did Rahm just smell his shit so much that he started thinking he was God?  Chicago, despite my loathing for it, is still within the bounds of America so they have a Mayor.  They don’t have a Pontiff, Godhead, or King.  Rohm can look up “Mayor” and then look up “Absolute Monarchical Power Wielded By Divine Right”.  Note; they’re not the same thing.

Rahm isn’t the only guy who has an outsized ego.  Boston Mayor Thomas M. Menino eagerly lined up to be duchebag number two.

I don’t have a horse in the gay marriage race.  What I do have is respect for the limits on a mayor’s power.  I can’t abide a population of ego inflated jackoffs that aspire to be theocratic dunderheads in my nation!  Nobody can legally chase a sandwich shop out of business any more than they can make the sun rise in the west.  We’re a free people.  We are citizens not subjects.  They’re why I avoid places like Chicago.  They can fuck off.

None of this is new.  It’s an attitude that has led me to believe the only thing Chicago creates  are taxes, debt, and corruption.  (And Al Bundy.)  It’s also why I have passed through Chicago dozens of times and I haven’t spent a red cent in their blighted burg.  The better to buy fuel, food, and hotel rooms, in free states farther afield.  But I happened to be passing through on Chick Fill A day.  What a great idea.

Unfortunately the logistics were tough.  My truck is too big for cities.  If you crushed six dozen “green technology” bicycles and dumped three Priuses on top you’d have an amusing jumble the mass of my truck’s hood.  Piloting my behemoth down those streets was challenging enough that I came, I saw, and I left…as soon as possible.

A bicycle rickshaw? Seriously?!? I find this mildly amusing and a bit pathetic. Has Chicago regulated itself out of the industrial age? What’s next; mules?

Ground zero in the movement for freedom of chicken sandwiches.

The press was there. What’s that van blocking the way?

No kidding? A police van? Move along. Nothing to see here.

Actually things weren’t that exciting.  The place seemed to have about twice the customers of adjacent shops.  I don’t know what the press was reporting but it seemed like happy people eating sandwiches in a humorous “screw you” to political blowhards.  I’d been hoping to buy a t-shirt hawked by an enterprising street vendor but none were around.  Just some T.V. guy setting up a camera and a crowded store.  Pretty tame really.

I left quickly.  More out of concern for my truck (which desperately wanted to be in a more suitable habitat) and busy schedules than anything else.

A block later I passed this:

Look what was parked a half block away. Nothing to see here either. Keep moving.

There might have also been a third vehicle but I wasn’t fast enough with the camera.  As far as I can tell the were a number of police eagerly waiting for something to happen but nothing was happening and (to their credit) they weren’t starting trouble.  Even the T.V. folks were pretty tame.

On the way out to the highway and roads leading to freer locales I took one last photo:

This young lady had an epic derrier. All you get is a picture of a tree. Sucks to be you.