Hard Assets

Posted on June 12, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

One evening after work I was pondering my finances. I’m concerned about them. You’re concerned about your finances too. If you aren’t you’re either deluded, dependent, or in denial. Economic uncertainty entails risk which cannot be wholly mediated.

So what did I do? Weep? Attack the liquor cabinet? Watch FOX? Of course not!

It's better to light a candle than curse the darkness. I'm a mountain of positive spirit!

I fired up my woodsplitter (which is inexplicably running flawlessly) and got to work. I worked of my own volition, alone, at my own pace, and quit when the sun set. There’s a simplicity to certain labors that’s noticeably absent elsewhere.

Did I wrap up my winter’s fuel needs? Not by a long shot. (I’m way behind my goals as usual.) But I made progress and the pile of prepared firewood went from “none” to “some”. Thus the number of weeks for which my home heating is assured went from “none” to “some”.

Firewood belongs to an interesting group of self-reliant “hard assets” which are (in some ways) better than cash. To begin with they’re infinitely more predictable. Despite what Al Gore would have you believe, it’s a certainty that it will be cold in the winter. Thus it is a certainty that my firewood is of value.

This guy eats global warming enthusiasts for breakfast.

Financial instruments (even cash) are ephemeral; digits backed by a system of ideas. Firewood is solid, real, and undeniable. The wood pile is mine and mine alone. It is on my yard and on my property. I don’t need a title and serial number to prove ownership. It won’t be taxed. It won’t be tracked. It isn’t likely to be stolen. It won’t be subject to late charges, administrative fees, or licensing agreements. It won’t depreciate, it gains quality as it dries, and it stores indefinitely. It is not subject to identity theft or lost paperwork. It’s not affected by inflation. If the stock market crashes it won’t vanish. If my credit rating tanks it won’t move an inch. War, peace, oil embargoes, elections, and unemployment won’t affect it. It’s a very hard thing to devalue and it’s impossible to deny it’s existence. Try that with a 401(k), Enron stock, or even your checkbook.

When you think about it like that, a simple woodstove is practically rebellious.  How often do you enjoy the fruits of your labors without a middleman and taxes?

I put in a couple hours of good old fashioned hard labor and slept well that night. Either I was at peace from progress toward a warm winter or my muscles were tired. Perhaps society could use that peace too.

Is America jittery because all it’s “wealth” is just numbers in databases? Numbers that are unimaginably huge and subject to political tinkering aren’t inherent in the human mind. We had to be taught that a bank statement is the same as stuff. It’s my Curmudgeonly opinion that society could use a few steps back from the virtualization of everything we own.  A computer hiccup can delete either my checkbook or this blog in a nanosecond but a complete global economic meltdown wouldn’t alter my woodpile. Perhaps the difference between the two isn’t something we can condescendingly ignore?

Posted in Libertarian Outpost | Leave a comment

The Debt Ceiling Drama Isn’t Real

Posted on June 10, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Predictably, the monkeys in D.C. who created a Ponzi government are riding it down the drain. The current molehill from which they’ve created a mountain is the debt ceiling. Shall we raise the debt ceiling with a fig leaf of cuts or shall we play chicken with default because fig leaves are too much “sacrifice”. This is a choice?

I won’t play that game. Defaulting is disastrous and stupid. Raising the limit to briefly prop up unsustainable spending is irresponsible and stupid. I won’t choose between two bad options. The fact that it’s paralyzed Washington means I’m not alone.

Federal debt isn’t merely inflicted by politicians. Citizens collude. Voters want paved bike trails, tofu studies, and sports arenas. Things they don’t value enough to buy with their own money. They desire subsidized retirements and medicine that most adults could (and should) self fund. What they want exceeds what they’ve chosen to pay for. Voters want unicorns, cake, and magic. So long as this remains true another encounter with the debt ceiling was inevitable.  (Note: Since March 1962, the debt ceiling has been raised 74 times.  This is not new.)

End result? The economy seems unstable.

Decades ago I saw this coming. If you understand demographics you did too. It was frustrating watching my nation (and Europe) deliberately choose long term failure. I didn’t want to go along for the ride. I was hoping for an exit. But there was none. Now that economic shit is hitting economic fans I’m slightly relieved. Seeing clouds on the horizon feels worse than being in the storm.

It's been coming for thirty years...lets just get it over.

I don’t know how government’s profligate expansion will change but the status quo is just about over (both in the US and in Europe). My guess is that events will take one of three paths; voters will learn, voters will die, or voters will be stopped.

1. They could learn. The most ideal outcome. In theory every voter (or enough to sway elections) could conclude that “an honest man is one who knows he can’t consume more than he has produced” and act accordingly. Yeah, and I could be a Chinese jet pilot.

Pictured above: A Chinese Jet Pilot.

2. They could die. People may refuse to learn but they cannot refuse to die. The biggest threats to solvency are Ponzi structured entitlements. They’ll change radically as Baby Boomers who saved too little demand too much. Demographics has sealed their fate. Whether it takes years or decades; it’s a done deal. Human mortality tells us that Baby Boomers will all be dead in 50 years.  (Note:  I didn’t pull that number from a hat.  The census defines Baby Boomers as  births from 1946 to 1964.  By 2064, or 53 years from today, every Baby Boomer will be a centenarian or dead.  Aside from Keith Richards, who is unkillable, it’s statistically likely most of them will be gone much sooner.  All things end.)   I think (this is conjecture) that subsequent generations will lack the ability to vote themselves free toys. Whether with a crash or a fade, Ponzi games won’t outlast the Boomers. We may have programs with the same names in 2050 but they will be entirely different animals.

3. They could be stopped. The wildcard. I try to live within the ancient and archaic concept of “if you can’t afford it you can’t have it”. Suppose I didn’t? At some point my creditors would impose the restraint that I’d failed to provide. Economics does the same with government. The form is hard to predict but if internal restraint fails external restraint is a certainty. My best guess is that inflation (hopefully not hyperinflation!) will drag us kicking and screaming down to the lower standard of living which we can afford. It’ll be a hard transition but “if you can’t afford it you can’t have it” cannot be denied.

So there’s the silver lining; the frustration of waiting is pretty much over. Fussing over the debt ceiling today is evidence that the transition is already here. If we were still whistling past the graveyard it would have passed weeks ago with a pile of expensive riders on a Friday afternoon before a three day weekend. The fact that it’s causing heartburn is heartening.

Posted in Harangue-a-bang-bang! | Leave a comment

My Favorite Machine Betrayed Me

Posted on June 8, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

What a week! Equipment has been messing with my head. Was there a global declaration that mechanical devices should revolt? I didn’t get the memo. Was it on FOX?

It all started when I set out to cut firewood.

I'm a lumberjack and I'm ok.

You know why people spend millions on fossil fuels to heat their homes? Because it’s worth it! Firewood is self reliant, cheap, and eco-green but cutting, splitting, stacking, hauling, and burning firewood is a metric shitton of hard work.  Only maniacs like me will go for it.

Firewood is such brutal work that it’s an exception to my cheapskate ways. I acquired the best, newest, strongest, ultra-reliable, top of the line, chainsaw and hydraulic wood splitter I could afford. My truck is rusty crap but I invested in the saw and splitter as if I’d die of overwork without them…which is exactly what would happen. Both devices were carefully stored all winter. This was the glorious day I got them out after their hibernation.

The author testing out his chainsaw.

I started with my chainsaw. Topped off with new gas and outfitted with a freshly sharpened chain it’s a mechanical work of art. It started on the second pull. Music to my Gaia stomping ears!

It's a little known fact that chainsaws benefit from acupuncture treatments.

I’d bucked two cords of largish logs before my arms turned into rubber. When you’re tired it’s better to split than cut. Inattention when running a saw will get you disemboweled.

I happily gave my wood splitter a once over. Situation good; it should fire on the first or second pull. By sunset I was going to put serious dent in the firewood situation! I was elated. Aside from beer and bacon nothing improves your quality of life better than hydraulics.

If you don't have one of these you'll have to flail away with a metal wedge on a stick. Hint: technology unchanged since the Middle Ages sucks.

I pulled the starter cord and…nothing. Huh? Pulled again. Nothing. WTF? I checked the controls but there wasn’t much to do; it has the simplest user interface on the planet; on/off switch, fuel valve, and choke. Pull. Nothing. Pull. Nothing. Damn!

I was crestfallen. A Chevy or a Dodge may let you down but not my shiny new splitter! It’s only a couple of years old; scarcely broken in. Disloyalty from my new machine? A conked out Honda engine!?! Blasphemy!

This was serious! Splitting firewood with a maul takes arms of iron and a head of muscle. Without a wood splitter I’d give up the fight. I’d crawl on my hands and knees to BP and kiss their ass for a handful of BTUs.

I did everything you’re supposed to do. Checked the gas, checked the oil, checked the air filter. Was the muffler plugged? Was the spark plug fouled? Was the on/off switch shorted? Was the fuel valve stuck? I pulled it a thousand times with and without the choke. Nothing.

In abject misery I gave up. The next morning I hitched it up and towed it to town. I was fuming. It was probably one day out of warranty. It’ll probably need a part made of unobtanium that’ll be shipped from Botswana in October of 2012. The hourly shop labor rate will probably cost more than a five star hooker. Sigh…some days you’re the dog but today was a hydrant day.

In the parking lot several guys helped me muscle it into the shop. Each one…all five…checked the gas. (I can’t blame them.) They milled around poking and prodding it. They all agreed it was as new and clean as the one on the showroom floor. Then one guy, an older fellow, sauntered up, flipped the switch to “on”, opened the fuel valve, and pulled the cord. Nothing. I watched him. He manipulated every control exactly as I had. He tried again. Nothing. I sighed. He pulled again. The damn thing roared to life!

I was shocked! Everyone looked at me like I had antennae growing from my skull. Like I was the dumbest, knuckle dragging, ignorant, rube to crawl in from the hinterlands. They all carefully instructed me on the three rudimentary controls…as if I hadn’t fully understood the “on/off” switch.

You mean the switch isn't supposed to point to "off"?

For whatever reason it once again runs like the perfect machine that it is. Maybe it was bored and wanted a field trip. Or possibly karma has decided for some reason that I should look stupid.

Posted in Technology of Indignity | Leave a comment

My Safe Went Skynet

Posted on June 6, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Long ago I bought a cheap pistol safe. I used it to store my cheap pistol.

It was a handy little safe; pleasing black metallic finish, foam coated interior. I “multitasked” with it. My computer monitor was too low. What better use for a pistol safe than a monitor stand? I was surfing the net while armed.

I used the safe to store a stapler and a gun.

Keeping your office supplies in a locked safe makes perfect sense.

Since I didn’t live in Mogadishu or Detroit I mostly used the stapler. Every time I needed to staple something I was reminded of the combination. Despite what safety Nazis tell you, I never accidentally shot the computer. Nor did I inadvertently staple any home invading criminals.

But there was one time when the computer had it coming.

When I moved to a new house the empty pistol safe was misplaced. Years later I discovered it. Still locked. Over time I’d forgotten the combination!

It had a “feature” that you could open it with a default code and a 9 volt battery but only after the internal batteries were dead. I decided to wait them out. Then I discovered another feature; when the batteries got weak it chirped intermittently to prompt the owner to “replace the batteries dummy”. It was annoying but I’m a patient man. I put it on the porch and let it chirp. It chirped for ten months. During the long time I call “the dying of the batteries” it annoyed a few guests and drove a house sitter bonkers. Strangers viewed the unidentified malicious chirping black steel box on the porch with suspicion. Was it junk? Was it a claymore mine? I’m proud to say that visitors were never sure.

Finally it was dead. I used a 9 volt battery and the default code to open it. (Despite forgetting the combination I’d saved the instructions for a decade…what’s up with that?) The safe was in fine shape; and empty. (What were you expecting; Jimmy Hoffa and a pile of Kruggerands?)

Carefully following the instructions I popped in eight new batteries and set a new code. Yes, I wrote it down! I tested the code according to the instructions. Everything checked out so (as instructed) I locked it. Inexplicably the new code didn’t work. I tried several times to open it…no go. The safe had gone feral.

That’s when I discovered another feature. If you try to open the safe with a bad code too many times it sets off a different (louder and more obnoxious) alarm. How do you deactivate the “someone tried to break in” alarm when you can’t open the safe? You can’t!

In a fit of frustration I stuffed the stupid safe in the freezer. Maybe the cold would kill the batteries again? No luck so far. It’s been a week. Muffled beeps emanate from my freezer every twenty minutes. It’s like I’ve hidden criminal evidence amid the frozen peas and my conscious is torturing me. I’m haunted by my own damn safe! It’s maddening. The freezer now pisses me off! The room where the freezer resides pisses me off! Ralph Nader pisses me off! (O.k. that last one isn’t the safe’s fault.)

I'm not the first poor fool to have trouble stored in my freezer.

The safe must go! Tomorrow I’m hauling the damn thing to the dump. It’ll keep beeping another year or two and I can’t take it. It’ll probably give the guys at the dump nightmares.

Moral of the story? Either use your pistol safe to hold a stapler or shoot zombies daily because once you’ve forgotten the combination you’re doomed.

Trust me on this: No man can win a battle of attrition against eight AA cells.

Posted in Technology of Indignity | Leave a comment

Failure Of The ‘Don’t Be Evil’ Concept: Part II

Posted on June 4, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

When lighting hosed my phone I discovered that in just six months Sonofabitches engineered two models to be mutually compatible.  They cleverly made it so a dead base “kills” two fully functional handsets.

Two questions: why and what to do about it?  First; “why?”  There’s no getting around why.  This cannot be incompetence…it is malice.

There is no explanation whatsoever except this; Sonofabitches are fucking with me.  Those evil, malignant, scum sucking, Sonofabitches went out of their way to deliberately make old stuff hard to “repair” and new replacements incompatible.  “Expandable to add new handsets” is just Sonofabitch bullshit marketing spin.  I know this is because the stores don’t carry a handset without a base, I can’t use my old handsets with the new base, and I feel the cold soulless depravity of market driven inhumanity whenever I think about them.

Google famously claims the code of conduct “Don’t be evil”.  Whether or not Google lives up to its goals it’s notable that “evil” is the default position of too many corporations.  There’s no point to it.  Capitalism may be competitive but if a company needs to be “evil” to make a profit then it’s a poorly managed entity that will eventually get their ass whipped severely by superior companies.  What the Sonofabitches just did is wrong, stupid, malicious, and …evil.  Sonofabitch managers deserve to be quartered, dipped in a pit full of leeches, and thrown in a cage full of hyenas…simultaneously

There is no need to be evil.  Honest businesses make money honestly.  I’d was happy to buy another product from them when “my” lighting hosed their device.  I’d have spent real cash and been happy about it.  But no…they got greedy. It wasn’t enough to make money from honest good service…they needed to engineer incompatibilities into the system.  For what?  For one sale?  They’d already made the sale.

It’s time to repeat a very important Curmudgeonly Gem Of Insight:

“It is never an American’s duty to pay money to people who piss them off.”

So I’ve been fucked by Sonofabitches.  What to do about it?  Actually not much.  The amount involved is small and I’m too busy to waste my life on stupid crusades.  Instead I’m going to wisely cut my losses and go for a clean soul.  I’ll leave karma to deal with Sonofabitches which is quite adequate because karma tends to win in the end.

Tonight I’ll take the new phone, all the packaging, and the receipt back to the store and return it.  I’ll buy virtually anything made by any  competitor.  This may seem strange; the new phone works OK even if it’s not backwards compatible.  Why return it?  Because those Sonofabitches acted like greedy little jackoffs.  I refuse to deal with them.  I refuse to send them my money.  I sincerely hope that their company goes broke and even if it doesn’t I don’t care.

I’ll know that I personally did not contribute to their success and that’s a good start.  One part of freedom is keeping leeches off.

I’ve also added them to my list of evil companies.  Time to repeat another Curmudgeonly Gem Of Insight:

“A company that fucks with me is banned from my life for eternity.”

I don’t suppose it will have any impact on their corporate conglomerate profits (or in the current economy; subsidy harvests).  But I’ll know that evil Sonofabitches didn’t get my hard earned cash and that’s priceless.

Posted in Curmudgeonly Gems of Insight, Libertarian Outpost, Technology of Indignity | Leave a comment

Failure Of The ‘Don’t Be Evil’ Concept: Part I

Posted on June 3, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Lightning struck very close to Castle Curmudgeon.  We didn’t take a direct hit but it rated a Sphincter Level Seven on my patented scale of terror.  Nothing was damaged but the cordless phone base was dead.  Both the DSL filter (a cheap little thing) and the handset base (not so cheap) were toast.  The two handsets and one charge-only base were fine.  The dog may need therapy.

When the power is down and the zombie hordes are coming you'll wish you had a reliable "corded" phone like Mickey.

Just for the record my “Bert Gummer red phone” (an old fashioned “wired to the wall” phone) worked as flawlessly as ever.  I wired that bastard up and bolted it to the wall  years ago.  Non-cordless phones work in power outages and your kid can’t wander off and lose the damn thing.  It has served well many times.  I use it periodically but most modern humans have apparently lost the ability to talk on a phone that has a cord.  Plus, the base was my answering machine which is a key component in my “don’t answer unless I feel like it” telephone interaction plan.  I needed to replace the damaged system pronto.

It's important to have a phone you won't misplace.

The lightning fried phone was “expandable to add more handsets” and it was six months old.  It was made by a common manufacture of electronics I will hereafter refer to as Sonofabitch Incorporated.  I expected to buy a new base (with one or two handsets) and link it to my existing two handsets (which are perfectly functional but doomed without a base…like Ron Paul).  Of course the exact same phone isn’t available.  Sonofabitch have “upgraded” their phones.  I bought Sonofabitch’s most similar model (which was pretty much all they had).  It was “expandable” just like the old one.

You know where this is going.  The new base and handsets look identical to the old base and handsets.  Buttons in the same color, same arrangement, same everything.  But the handset base has been changed just the tiniest bit; about 1/32″ wider and 1/16″  shallower.  Exactly the smallest change that would make the old handsets incompatible with the new base.  No sweat, the old charger works.  Just fire ’em up and go.

What’s this?  I need to “register” the two old handsets to the new base?  Fine.  What’s this?  It can only be done using the old base…which is dead.  I believe I’ve been had.

What will the Curmudgeon do?  Will he go on a three state killing spree?  Curl up in a corner and weep?  Apply for Obamabucks stimulus money to recoup his lightning loss?  Can he find and hire the A-Team to get his revenge?   Tune in to Part II tomorrow (or whenever I get around to posting it).

Posted in Curmudgeonly Gems of Insight, Libertarian Outpost, Technology of Indignity | Leave a comment

The Unstoppable: Michael Dasher

Posted on June 2, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

I’m pleased whenever I see a “CAN DO!” attitude.  That’s why I created my “unstoppable” category.  That’s where I list truly excellent heroes as well as those who are talented or turn the “macho” dial to eleven.

Go ahead...just grab it and show it who's boss.

Without segue I’ll also mention that I’m pleased that America has alligators.  Why?  Because they’re massive, predatory, carnivorous, lizards.  How lucky we are to live in a world where folks can hunt monsters!  I’ve already mentioned alligators on my unstoppable list before.  Of course alligators are also part of the intricate web that is our natural environment which we all respect and Gaia and fruits and nuts and blah, blah, blah…

Add one more element; a kid.  I present here a boy who has somehow escaped the ritual indoctrination of public schools and liability law. The headline alone is delightful:

Boy, 10, drags live, 6-foot gator home from canal

When a six foot alligator snapped ten year old Michael’s fishing line and charged him he decided to hang tough.  The kid somehow wrestled it into submission and dragged it back home…alive.  “Mom, look what I found!”

Stupid?  Yes!  Brave?  Certainly!  Here’s to young Michael the kind of kid who already has balls of steel.  The world needs ya’ kid.  Keep up the good work.

A.C.

The only difference between this and an alligator is scale and a cool soundtrack by Blue Oyster Cult.

P.S.  Some folks might complain that alligators are reptiles and not lizards. Technically this is true but when enumerating “monster like creatures” alligators are clearly related to Godzilla and therefore lizards.  This is the same reasoning that re-categorizes the grizzly bear from “mammal” to “a half ton of pure rage encapsulated by a fur coat”.

HT to Stormbringer.

Posted in The Unstoppable | Leave a comment

Off Grid II

Posted on June 1, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

I’ve talked about going “off grid” before. I’ve added a personal aspect to the phrase:

“Off grid” originally meant you were disconnected from the power system. When the term was coined it implied remoteness or self-reliance.

Virtually every dwelling in every developed nation is tied to an electrical delivery system. We’ve strung power cables planet wide. How wondrously improbable! We move electricity from huge generation facilities all the way to the lamp I keep over my tropical fish. We take it for granted. Well, I don’t. I’m impressed. The Romans built aqueducts…neat. I power my clock radio from another time zone…holy shit!

Rural electrification missed a few spots. Folks in the boondocks (and this is very rare) might be involuntarily off grid. For the other 99% of us the grid is already there. Only a kook would disconnect. God bless the kooks! When someone disconnects from the grid now it implies an interesting personality; a bunker bound survivalist welding faraday cages with his diesel generator, a patchouli scented hippie studying yoga by his flickering 5 watt solar powered fluorescent, an Amish farmer reading a German bible by candle light, etc…

I’m too cheap to buy a hulking generator or a “Prius of the roof” solar system. Like many “green technologies” the numbers don’t pencil out. If I won the lottery I’d be off grid within a month. Hasn’t happened yet. I use the same cheap coal powered electricity that the rest of us do for the same reason; it makes sense.

Even as I accept cheap grid power I’m not so blasé about grids which deliver “information”. I view them with suspicion because “information delivery” can become “bullshit delivery”.

I use “off grid” to describe a disconnect from the usual bullshit which surrounds us all.

In the 1980’s they decided it was imperative to pipe 50 channels of shit into the living room idiot box. By the time MTV stopped playing music videos, cable TV had insinuated itself into most homes and satellite’s competing grid of microwaves meant that nobody was truly “unreachable”.

TV is usually an endless stream of hedonistic slime, slavering consumerism, and manipulative horseshit. Not my TV though. My TV is “off grid”; it has neither cable nor satellite. It displays only what I deliberately acquire. A side effect is that I’m detached from the shared experience of whatever TV is currently spewing. Usually that’s good; imagine Christmas without advertising addled children and election cycles without attack ads! But sometimes I seem out of touch. I don’t know who got voted off the island or why I should care. That’s another form of “off grid”.

To me, “off grid” means I haven’t watched TV lately. That’s ok. TV news hasn’t been “news” in a very long time.

The 1990’s brought the cell phone. They’re a good idea that slowly became a leech that accumulates monthly bills while making sure you’re never ever left in peace. My cell phone, like yours, has an off switch. I stuff that bastard in the glove box where it belongs and never regret it.

To me, “off grid” means you’ll have to leave a message. I’ll call back…unless I don’t.

The grid that snares me most is the internet. I like the internet. Sometimes it’s wise to turn it off for a while anyway.

To me, “off grid” means I have no idea what just “went viral” on the internet. That’s ok. We all laughed at the “Don’t taze me bro” guy but that doesn’t make it important.

Fairly often my TV, internet, and cell phone are off simultaneously. That’s “off grid”. Does that deprive me of something? Does it make me a clueless redneck rube to ignore the global information flow? To the contrary; nothing from the grid is ever as urgent as it first appears.

Some people have never been off grid. A thought that’s mildly disturbing. Until you’ve gone “off grid” you might never know how little it all matters.

Then again lots of people have never seen a sunrise, fireflies, or a starry night sky. Another thought that’s mildly disturbing.

Luckily, going “off grid” is free and easy. You can go “off grid” any time you want. We’re living in one of the greatest possible times. We have an impressive global information flow available 24/7…and it comes with an “off” switch.

Posted in Libertarian Outpost, Technology of Indignity | 2 Comments

Off Grid I

Posted on May 31, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

I was gone for a while. Did ya’ miss me? I was “off grid” a week or so. It’s not the big deal that you’d think. (I wasn’t cloistered!) I spent some time on a motorcycle, a couple days in the plastic innards of suburbia, and finally a super secret mission to parts unknown to go fishing. A nice break, well earned and wholly appreciated.

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. (These are just a few examples.) The misdeeds of celebrities and failed shuttles were tragic spectacle but wars and wild economic gyrations are worse. Stupid people in large groups can be stampeded. I’ve seen it happen. If the lemmings charge while you’re “off grid” it’s far more jarring to absorb it all at once when you return.

This time I was curious what earth shattering events took place while I was out losing bait to the current. Would it be good news? Bad news? Weird news? …Nothing happened! Glorious, delightful, productive, nothing!

It was a Memorial Day miracle! The flags on Memorial day were as proud as ever. Flowers on graves…very well done. Even politicians (spit!) briefly refrained from starting wars or tinkering with economic levers they don’t understand. Superb!

I may be the only blogger that suggests you periodically ignore everything (even my blog) but that’s my Curmudgeonly advice. The greatest universal bullshit detector on earth is a few days “off grid”.

Posted in Libertarian Outpost, Technology of Indignity | 2 Comments

Book Review: Atlas Shrugged Get Over It

Posted on May 25, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

I appreciate thoughtful literature. Quit laughing! I may look like an imbecile but it’s (usually) an act. Sadly, deep thought sometimes gets unfairly lumped with dour pretentious preachy sermonizers. I will not abide such asshattery. So, unless it’s superlative, it had better have a modicum of levity or I become a pin in search of a ballooned ego. It’s a public service I provide. When you see a guy making fart jokes during intermission at the opera; it might be me. Someone’s got to do it. (Note: I’ve been to the opera and I enjoyed it. No I’m not gay. )

Russia has plenty of interesting stories to tell. Dersu Uzala was cooler than you. He can skin a buck. He can run a trot line. And he can kick your country boy ass.

Now that you know how I approach “important” culture, I’d like to discuss Russian literature. It’s my opinion, and my opinion is backed by no credentials whatsoever, that too much Russian literature aspires too hard to be too important. Russia has everything you need for a good story; empires, misery, impoverishment, war, famine, and death. Add in bad weather and a bloody history involving Stalin, war with Hitler, and occasional epic madness which mows down peasants wholesale and you’ve got plenty of chances for heroic deeds and whatnot. Maybe sex it up with a groovy back story involving Mongolian raiders charging off the steppes? I’m just spit-balling here but there’s much to work with.

The tremendous effort expended in growing and caring for his beard made Tolstoy a sad and beaten man.

Good grief, some yahoo yanks a sword out of a rock and you’ve got the skeleton upon which they’ve fleshed out Arthurian legend. A story I just told in nine words can become vivid. That’s what writers are for; to cunningly entice a full story out of naked ideas. Surely Russia can do that? Alas, no. I just can’t grok Tolstoy. The guy needs to lighten up.

You know who else needs to lighten up? Ayn Rand.

Yeah, I said it!  You were thinking it too but were scared of her objectivist minions!

The intellectual hero of libertarians everywhere had good ideas.  In fact they’re excellent.  But she’s chosen to serve teaspoons of spice on giant plates of “duh”.

This is tragic.  I’ve tried to enjoy her works. They would appear to be relevant to my life. (I believe I’d “Gone Galt” before “Going Galt” was cool.)  I should love it!  But the text is like being locked in a monologue factory.  It’s stewed spinach and tap water in a world meant for steak and whiskey.

If you looters change one word of my text I'll beat you to death and sell your bones on e-bay.

I don’t care how good her point may be… she needed an editor.

I have to admit. That's a bitchin' cover! However, I suspect that anyone who says they avidly read this book cover to cover are either lying or boring. The link goes to Amazon.com where you can order it. Feel free to leave it on the coffee table with all the other books you don't read because you're busy watching Cops.

Actually she needed an armed editor. With no fear and balls of steel. I suspect that any editor who suggested she change one word would be pummeled to death with a 90 page monologue and then some tall thin woman with icy cold eyes would stomp on his spleen with stilettos.  If there were editors who would appreciate such activities Mrs. Rand never availed herself of their services. I blame it all on the circumstances of her Russian youth and think it inexplicably ties in with Tolstoy.

Why am I telling you this? Because last winter, I parked in a comfy chair in front of a roaring fire trying to read Atlas Shrugged and it just plain wore me out. Eventually I thought, “What am I doing? I’m not a college student being forced to read this. Screw it!” I put Ayn Rand down and played a video game. I’m pretty sure I heard a shriek of agony from the afterlife (assuming Rand the Athiest is there…which wouldn’t be pleasant for anybody involved).  The earth’s rotation shifted as her body started spinning in it’s grave.  Yes…I chose Nintendo…sue me.

Stalin: One of the most evil men to have ever walked the face of the earth. Never trust a man with a waxed mustache!

I haven’t played video games in decades. Yet her book drove me into the waiting arms of Super Mario Brothers Wii. This is Stalin’s fault for screwing up Ayn Rand’s youth. The bastard!

Posted in Harangue-a-bang-bang!, Reviews, Where vocabulary goes to die | Leave a comment