More posts about ongoing “project daily driver” are here:

• Project Daily Driver / Gift From Past Me

My cruiser is back on the road! When snow was 3′ deep and hauling firewood was a daily issue, I planned this moment. I’d made an appointment months in advance at a motorcycle shop.

Was this always necessary? I live in an empty location in an increasingly empty society. If I walk in the door looking for motorcycle service on the fly I’m doomed. I’ll hear something like “we’re really swamped during this unexpected temporary situation that’s been ongoing since about 2010. We have only few decent mechanics and they’re exhausted. We try to augment that with a handful of clueless Gen Z flunkies but they never show up and can’t operate a motorcycle anyway. We can fit you in for service six weeks from next October.”

Such is the decline in society. Look around. You’ll see it.

I adapted instead of bitching. I made a motorcycle appointment during a season of snowmobiles. Good for me. (If I owned a snowmobile I might make an appointment now for sometime around Christmas.)

My bike came back and I pried open my wallet to pay the price. Worth it! The old Honda looks more or less like it did the day I bought it. Except it’s slathered in 20+ years of dirt. (Some people wax bikes like showpieces. I don’t.) It also runs more or less like the day I bought it. All hail well built, simple, engines!

In celebration, I did a shakedown ride. I dug through my mishmash of protective gear. I’ll admit I’m a disorganized mess. It’s not that I haven’t been riding, it’s that the last two years have been 40 MPH and slower on a Yamaha in the forest and not 75 MPH and faster on a Honda on the slab. Two very different worlds. Also, I’ve bought the absolute bare minimum equipment over the last two decades and used it all until it’s frayed.

Everything I own was probably shot 10 years ago. I just keep riding anyway. Ignoring its increasingly ragged condition might have caught up with me.

I grabbed my trusty helmet, which has been carefully stored. I had to wipe off a ton of dust. I put on my leather chaps. (They may look silly but if I attack your kneecap with a belt sander I guaran-damn-tee you’d prefer them to denim alone!) I put on my jacket (which is looking a bit worn).

I do have new gloves. I’m not an animal!

Now I was suited up and ready for a daily driver shakedown cruise!

As I rode my helmet didn’t fit like it once did. It seemed to be rubbing my skull. Like someone took a perfectly good helmet and stashed a brick in it.

For dirt bike riding I bought a new helmet a few years ago. It’s perfect for 45 MPH but it would suck eggs at 75MPH. Hence the old helmet which is meant for highway speeds. It used to fit like a glove but now it was hard and uncomfortable.

I stopped for a cheeseburger and to assess the helmet situation. When I took off the helmet a bunch of foam came out. I found more foam bits in my hair. More fell down the back of my neck. The helmet got old and the soft padding inside is literally falling to pieces. It’s just plain wore out. I suspect the shell is still good but the soft padding inside is toast. Unfortunately the soft stuff is part of the protection. Without the soft stuff, the harder parts of the helmet were grinding into my skull.

No denying it. I going to have to throw out a good looking but decades old helmet. I wish I could retrofit the inside. I’m sure it’s a PITA and it’s definitely not recommended for safety reasons.

I hate trying on helmets. It took me forever to buy a simple dirt bike helmet and by comparison that’s practically a cheap ass bicycle helmet. Plus there’s not much of a selection locally and the real crux of it is that I don’t like shopping.

After a righteous cheeseburger I suited up; gingerly fitting the helmet on a slightly sore head. Then the chaps showed their age…

Flashback to buying the chaps; Sturgis 2000:

Me: “So you’ll hem to fit?”

Grizzled biker chick with scary big sewing machine: “Yep. Stand on this box.”

I stood on a box and she fitted the waistband and then the legs; marking them to cut & hem to length.

Me: “It’s a little loose around the waist.”

Biker Chick: “What kind of bike do you have?”

Me: “Honda Shadow.”

Biker Chick: “Metric Cruiser?”

Me: “Yeah, the belt is loose maybe you could…”

Biker Chick: “You’ll grow into it.”

Sigh… she was right! The waist is now more… um… form fitting. It’s not too tight, but it sure as hell ain’t loose. Fuckin’ covid weight gain!

There’s a little pocket on one leg of the chaps. The snap that holds that pocket closed ripped out years ago. I can’t put anything in it because it will immediately blow out onto the pavement. For at least 30,000 miles I’ve literally had a pocket flap buzzing in the wind on my right leg every mile I ride. Being cheap is like that.

Plus there’s a decades’ worth of dead bugs and road grime. But hey, ride with what you got eh? In fact, I’ve been wearing the chaps on the dirt bike too. My theory is that if I bounce off a tree it’s better to have them than not. They’re not ideal for off road situations but they sorta’ work when it’s not too hot. I’m still alive right?

Then the zipper pull ripped off. Nooooooo!

So there I am in a burger joint trying to make assless chaps (over denim jeans!) work when they’re totally shot. There is nothing graceful about any of this! I’ve got one leg zipped up and the belt (which I definitely grew into) tight, but the other leg flapping around like I’m some sort of demented incompetent one leg flasher.

I was wearing recently purchased motorcycle boots (the first motorcycle boots I’ve ever owned). They don’t fit great and they’re not broken in. Thus, my balance wasn’t great. I stumbled and flopped over into the booth while trying to extract my Leatherman from a jacket pocket. (Even as I did this, I realized the pocket’s zipper pull is also shot. Years ago I replaced it with a gadget I found in a camping store somewhere. I’d forgotten about that.)

Then, while I struggled face down ass up in a burger joint’s booth… with chaps half on and half off and a Leatherman dropped on the floor where my helmeted head couldn’t fit to reach… I ripped one. It’s not my fault, it just happened. Trip over new boots, crash into the booth, drop the Leatherman, and then broooonk. God has excellent comedic timing and I’m one of his props.

People were watching. I was fatally embarrassed.

Then the phone dings. Usually it’s off in the saddlebags but I hadn’t brought the saddlebag keys with me. (Another part of “project daily driver” is managing some missing keys. When my dog died we got a puppy. The puppy is another Great Pyrenees and eventually it got tall enough to reach my chest high key rack. I only figured out what was happening after the puppy ate several keys. The damn dog didn’t inform me what keys it ate so I’m still figuring out what keys are missing. My saddlebags that are perma-locked until I fix them.)

I ditched the helmet, forgot about the Leatherman, pretended the chaps were not a tangled mess, and tried to sit properly. If I couldn’t manage actual human traits I’d at least mimic them. As I fiddled with the phone the people watching me got bored. Phones create invisibility; a new thing I just learned.

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Enjoying your ride?”

Me: “I’M FALLING APART AT THE SEAMS!”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Stress will do that. Maybe take a longer ride?”

Me: “The shit I wear is falling apart.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Are you wearing that jacket you bought from the guy in the classified ad way back years ago?”

Me: “Yeah, so?”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “You do realize that there’s no such thing as classified ads anymore. Nor does anyone read a newspaper. Wait, are you wearing those skanky chaps?”

Me: “They’re perfectly good.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “You wore them into a mud pit last spring!”

Me: “That was not exactly an intended thing.”

It wasn’t this bad.

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “The mud was probably cow shit.”

Me: “Farming is why we’re not starving.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Those chaps smell funky. Get your ragged ass home and buy new stuff.”

Me: “Shopping sucks.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “I will help you shop.”

Me: “Thanks!”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “I will drove to a store, kick you out, and lock the car door until you’re wearing a new jacket.”

So there you have it. I hate shopping and all my shit is worn out. Meanwhile, Mrs. Curmudgeon is trying to keep me alive and also keep people at burger joints from having to deal with bikers that smell like agriculture. The universe is at balance.

I have now re-defined “daily driver” to include protective gear.

I try to ignore my blog’s hit count. Investing too much in that little dopamine meter leads to madness. (We’ve all seen what social media does to people!) However, I’m only human and when I get a zillion hits, I can’t help but notice.

I decided to link to a few posts that lead here. Maybe you’ll follow them back and enjoy their point of origin. I think wordpress used to do this automatically with something called “trackback” but it’s gone now. Life is too short to fret about wordpress programming. Here goes:

A few weeks ago I wrote Attack Of The Gell-Man Effect and it sent the count meter spinning. The whole thing is Sarah Hoyt’s Fault! Her initial post got me to thinking. Thinking got me to writing. Then Sara linked to my my cogitations on Instapundit (where she posts often). Instapundit has rounding errors bigger than my blog so a simple little link there was an earthquake on my local hit counter. Thanks Sarah!

There were other links to that same post. I appreciate them too. Unfortunately, they’re already lost in the aether. Blogs, especially those that generate lots of attention, are transient. Lose the link and the knowledge is gone. If you linked to me and didn’t get mentioned here, I’m sorry about that.

More recently I wrote THAT Is How It’s Done! Folks seemed to like it. I followed up with THAT Is How It’s Done! Part 2 and inadvertently hit a vein of pure Zeitgeist. Raconteur Report noticed and sent some traffic my way. In the MIDDLE of the RIGHT did the same. Thanks to both of you! Borepatch mentioned and tied in a post by Larry Correia. (Being mentioned along with Monster Hunter(!) is pretty awesome for a guy like me. I talk to trees and then blog stories that go nowhere; I just assume nobody reads my shit (except for Squirrels of course), Larry’s the real deal. Thanks Borepatch!

Also a warm shout out to Filthie’s Thunderbox. He lives behind the maple syrup curtain where the leaders wear gay socks. I live where the president dresses normally but has mentally degraded to the intelligence of dish soap and can’t reliably finish sentences.

Filthie could probably join in any discussion I’ve had with an oak tree. We might both lose a debate to a particularly smart spruce.

He directly and indirectly referred (several times) to my recent heresy. I shelved my efficient, lightweight, fast JetBoil campstove and began fiddling with a slow, heavy, gasoline burning, Coleman campstove.  Because of course I did!

Filthie is into polls lately. Everyone go over there and tell him the proper name for his truck which totes around his homemade RC airplane. He offers a poll with four likely names but everyone knows it has already been noticed by America’s NSA. The Squirrels tell me it has been tagged as “Darkweb Bringer Of Death From The Sky”. After all, everyone knows a tiny homebuilt RC plane is more or less exactly like a Predator Drone and they’ll post all about it to piss him off. I figure Filthis is one 3d printed “ghost wing”, a two stroke motor the size of a beer can, and a bag of corn chips shy of being blamed for all war crimes on earth.

My last post was about the Kentucky Derby. A surprise winner came from behind with all the heart and athleticism that makes life wonderful.

I watched the video(s) over and over again. An 80:1 horse, literally the longest odds on the track, kicked ass. It was improbable. The biggest upset in 109 years. Likely the biggest Kentucky Derby upset that’ll happen in my lifetime.

It. Was. Glorious!

It made me happy to see the true winner of a true competition. A true competition allows us to see who is best.

The unexpected winner of the Kentucky Derby is glorious because it is true.

Kentucky Derby organizers worked hard to make the competition fair, honest, and transparent.

Every detail is setup to limit even the slightest hint of cheating. The horses all faced the same circumstances. During the race nobody left the track and nobody entered the track. The horses left the gate all at once, on the day that had been determined years in advance, on the time that was scheduled, and they raced exactly as planned.

Nothing ruined the competition. There was no pile up of tripped horses. No idiot ran out into the arena. No external forces affected the track once the race began. The race happened on time, in public, as expected; as befits a serious endeavor.

There was constant vigilance. The race happened in full view of thousands of observers. Anyone could buy a ticket to watch. It was not a closed arena with a hidden track.

There were observers in every nook and cranny; watching from every angle. There are timers and cameras everywhere. Not just at the race’s conclusion but every foot of the track was under constant watch. Thousands of people watched, many with binoculars, others with cameras, plus there were overhead shots and live video broadcast on many venues.

Nor was the race won by a nose; Rich Strike won like a boss! I can verify one view of the finish by looking at a totally different camera angles of the same finish. They should, can, and do match up. I can get these images from dozens of sources.

It was transparent, monitored, broadcast, performed live, uninterrupted, and therefore scandal free. It wasn’t scandal free first and then monitored as an afterthought.

The Kentucky Derby was deliberately planned and executed in such a way to convince everyone that the results were trustworthy. Trust is earned, it’s not an accident.

I watched the race and I believed it. I’m not filled with disbelief and anger at the wacky 80:1 finish. As far as I can tell it was not a lie; it was simply a statistical oddity. I enjoyed viewing it. I trust what I saw. I have many legitimate reasons to believe it happened just as it was reported.

I’m not the only one. Thousands, possibly millions, of very careful gamblers watched it too. They put money on it. They had skin in the game. We all believe that the Kentucky Derby ran a clean race. Bookies burned on 8:1 sure bets and watching their money go to some loon who foolishly put cash on 80:1 longshots are taking their lumps and shrugging their shoulders. That’s how it goes.

The Kentucky Derby was done right.

This is why I could believe an improbable outcome; even enjoy it. Now brace yourself for the second part:

Everything done right at the Kentucky Derby was done wrong in the American Election of 2020.

I watched every single minute of the Kentucky Derby. There was not one second excluded from live video. That’s not what happened during the 2020 election.

Here’s a photo of the absentee ballot counting facility in Detroit. This image was taken during ballot counting. There’s no reason on God’s green earth to block the view and a million reasons why it looks corrupt.

If the Kentucky Derby blocked the view of the race then someone announced an 80:1 longshot completely nuked the other 19 horses would you believe it?

Here’s the announcement of a pause in counting absentee ballots in Georgia. The famous water main break:

Here’s an image of a suitcase full of ballots being counted during the time when election observers were sent home and counting was said to be stopped. I can presume you’ve already seen videos and images of this event.

Dozens of events were sketchy during the actual campaign too. We call campaigns a “race” but they are sloppy and pathetic compared to the Kentucky Derby; our elections, in comparison, are hopelessly corrupt.

The image below is a fact that emerged during the election. You’re looking at the Presidential Candidate’s son with a crack pipe in his mouth:

The press called it misinformation. They said it wasn’t true. But it was true.

That’s the thing that makes the 2020 election a complete disaster. A year and a half later and we’re still getting confirmation that bullshit happened. What was called  “misinformation” before the election is absolutely completely undeniably known to be true after the election.

51 “intelligence experts” claimed the Hunter Biden laptop was misinformation. They made this claim publicly in writing before the election. Now that the election is over, it’s is a known fact that every single one of them lied.

Let me repeat this known and undeniable fact because it’s important; I could watch the Kentucky Derby and see every damn hoofbeat frame by frame if I wish. But during an American election campaign 51 “intelligence experts” all collectively lied. One single event like that would ruin horseracing pari-mutuel betting for decades and yet we watched it happen in a presidential election. This was not one or two bad apples. It’s 51 of the motherfuckers. They all lied. I can’t get 51 people to agree on the best pizza topping but the press got 51 of them to sign their names on the record to an actual verifiable lie.

The FBI had the Hunter Biden laptop and somehow “lost” it. A law enforcement agency is supposed to manage chain of custody of evidence. “We lost it?” Really? That’s pure bullshit.

Of course, lies only last so long. The data is out there now and everyone has a copy. But the corruption accomplished what the corruption was meant to accomplish. They maintained the lie before the election (when it mattered) and only admitted the truth after the election when the truth is a moot point.

What does the press say about the situation that they created and pushed? Whoops… it was true after all.

What about the race itself?

Candidate Trump went everywhere, racking up huge audiences. There were boat parades and full stadiums. Here’s Trump in Duluth, Minnesota:

Here’s Trump campaigning in Jacksonville, Florida:

Here’s his campaign in Swanton, Ohio:

There are literally hundreds and hundreds of photos of Trump in front of huge happy crowds all during the campaign. Usually one or two packed arenas per week.

I personally saw a Trump rally. It was exactly like all the photos. Huge audience, happy people, His Orangeness sounded exactly the same at the rally as he does on video. (For both good and bad, the dude appears to love it. He could do a campaign speech to Penguins in an earthquake on top of a volcano and I think he’d rock that audience too.)

Just as I personally verified Trump’s… um… Trumpness, I could have gone to Kentucky and personally watched the Kentucky Derby.

I couldn’t do that with Candidate Biden. Biden “ran” most of his race from his basement. A schmuck like me wouldn’t get into his few and very closely controlled events. I’ve personally seen Trump and I’ve personally seen Trump crowds. I’ve never personally seen Biden and (in the last few months at least) I’m having a hard time fining people who are happy to have voted for him.

Here’s Biden with his basement in the background.

When Biden finally left the basement, he looked exactly like someone losing a race. Here’s Biden’s campaign in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He’s barely got enough people there to field a softball team. This is the candidate that is said to have gotten more votes than any other candidate in history:

Here’s Biden’s campaign in Pembroke Pines, Florida. You could feed that crowd with two large pizzas. I’ve personally had more people in my house. This is the candidate that is said to have gotten more votes than any other candidate in history:

I watched the votes get tallied on election day; you did too. I watched the election results come in and it looked pretty straightforward, just like the Kentucky Derby race. I went to bed at midnight having watched Trump’s solid win. I woke up the next day to a different result. The Kentucky Derby didn’t “restate” who won its horse race. America restated it in very special and select places where it was statistically um… necessary.

Within hours of the election’s weird and unprecidented overnight shutdown, the new results in the morning started showing up as images like this. You’ve seen them too. You can find dozens of such images. It’s a pattern found to the largest degree in states where it was important that Biden win. Here’s an image from Wisconsin:

Here’s an image from Michigan:

Those charts became a meme:

A weird chart might have a reasonable explanation but it surely doesn’t smell good. Mixed with every other sort of shenanigan during counting (covered windows, counts that paused for no reason, counts that shift in huge strange ways) it has the undeniable appearance of bullshit. Even if there’s a great reason for dozens of really weird results all in very key locations, it looks incredibly shady. Nobody sane would invest in a company that had financial records like that.

If Kentucky Derby races had finish lines like the election results, there would be no more Kentucky Derby. If you go to bed thinking Horse A won and wake up to find Horse B won, you’d call bullshit. You’d never place a bet again.

Speaking of bullshit, a few months after the sketchy election pissed everyone off, there was a Time magazine article about how the campaign was “fortified”. Obviously, it was published after the election:

After a while and some diligent research we started seeing videos of “vote mules”. These are people who are illegally casting more than one vote. Here’s a mule in a purple dress voting more than once… which is illegal. A person with different political views than mine might get all pissed off about it, but nobody can deny it at least looks like cheating. It smells like cheating. It sounds like cheating. This is a video of someone stuffing ballots in a ballot box. It’s a video of a felony:

Here’s another video of a bald guy voting more than once. It’s really hard to construe this as anything other than cheating and a felony. In this case there’s a license plate visible. The plate is evidence, of who is doing the ballot stuffing and it’s caught on tape; along with the actual crime taking place:

I could go on. I could link ten times as many images and endless bits of evidence and statistical anomalies. You’ve seen the same information as me. You’ve seen the images. You watched the vote tally change enormously in the middle of the night. You saw the vote counting stop in the middle of the night and then restart with vastly different results. You’ve seen the vote count charts. You’ve seen the mule videos. You’ve seen the Hunter Biden photos. You read the same Time magazine article.

Does any of that sound, look, or smell like the Kentucky Derby race?

I suppose someone could very carefully try to refute all the evidence but by bit. Suppose it’s all crazy right wing bullshit; even if that was all stipulated to be true, it still indicates an election that looks exactly like a cheat. The appearance of impropriety is exactly what the Kentucky Derby avoided. The Kentucky Derby was done right. The American election of 2020 was a complete and utter fuck up that we will remember for the rest of our lives.

Lets go even further. Does anyone believe the best horse won an honest race for president? Has Joe Biden led like a man who earned his position? Has he gotten good results? Do people seem to accept him as the de factor president of the United States? Does he have the popularity ratings that would go with the highest vote tally in history?

The Kentucky Derby convinced me that 80:1 longshot Rich Strike honestly won a fair race. The American press convinced me that Joe Biden did not win. I wouldn’t believe an 80:1 horse race if it had that much bad evidence any more than I believe Biden got more votes than any other candidate in history.

Everything done right at the Kentucky Derby was done wrong in the American Election of 2020. I wish we cared enough about clean politics as we did a horse race.

I’ll wrap this up with a photo of Joe Biden shaking hands with nobody:

Something cool happened Saturday. I recommend you take time to simply enjoy what I’m about to talk about. Don’t let the moment go by. It’s too easy to be distracted by mundane shit and miss excellence when it’s not shoved in front of your nose. Take time to freebase the roses!

While normal people were settling in for a happy mothers’ day weekend and abnormal ones were getting all frothed up to commit mayhem against Supreme Court Justices, the Kentucky derby happened. The press was busy advocating fighting the Russians down to the last Ukrainian and the Ministry of Information is busily punishing all why don’t toe the line about “penumbras” which “emanate”. And Biden said… look squirrel…

Amid Rome’s continued decline, the Kentucky Derby happened like it was managed by adults. It happened on time, on budget, as planned, and without drama. It’s a reminder we were once a civilized people who could do civilized things.

I don’t generally care about horse racing, but I’m happy someone does. A world where people had horses and didn’t race them would be unspeakably sad. For that matter, I’m a man and therefore think that virtually anything that moves can and should be raced. Only wimps and vegans disagree.

This time the race was extra special. Twenty horses run in the big event. Each year there’s a few with a shot at the big win but the rest are destined to never make it further than they are now; like Bernie Sanders at a Democratic primary. Everyone knows this. Pari-mutuel betting is as close to a “free market” as any and it ruthlessly cuts the shit. It’s rarely “incorrect”.

Yet this year a horse won against very long odds. (I think it was the biggest upset since 1913 or something.) This horse, which virtually nobody cared about, came from the back of the pack and curb stomped all competition like Godzilla with an attitude. It was amazing!

A horse paying at 80:1 won! (For the pendants reading, I’ve seen reports, that it was 73:1 but Forbes tells me that a $2 bet would have had a $163.60 payoff, which smells like 80:1 to me.)

When a horse pays like that you’ve seen something improbable and, in this case, awesome. I watched the race and then re-watched it several times (it’s only a two minute race).

It. Was. Beautiful.

You simply must see it. Grim’s Hall has a link to a good video. There are others. All are awesome. This one benefits from “after the fact” arrows pointing out where the action is happening. The first few videos I watch lacked that and I had to watch a few times just to understand what I was seeing. Stop right now and watch it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DsQyMvPwtg

Words don’t do it justice. It helps to know what you’re looking at; especially if you watch the whole race; which I recommend. (It’s a 2 minute race, has our attention span eroded so much that 2 minutes of flat out running horses is too boring?)

Horse #21 is named Rich Strike and the jockey has a red helmet. At the start of the race look wayyyyyy in the back. The real action starts back in the loser section, amid the horses that skipped leg day and the jockeys that smoke. Our, as yet unnoticed, hero starts out there and then something snaps and he goes into beast mode!

The horses at the front of the pack were having a fine race already. They were tearing the place up. They truly set a blistering pace. It was a fast tract this weekend. If any of the leaders had won, it would have been pretty cool to watch.

But the dial goes to eleven around halfway through. Some of the horses are slowing down from just plain rocking the first half and meanwhile Rich Strike is surging past them one at a time. In the last quarter… something magic happens. And that’s the best I can describe it. Grit? Full on brutal insanity? I’ve no idea where that horse reached to find the extra strength and spirit, but it pulled up a fucking tornado. Rich Strike got something in his equine head and was going to get what is best in life.

I’m not a horse racing fan. Maybe I miss the subtle nuances. But by God I loved this race. Rich Strike comes out of mid pack like a fuckin’ dragon. The horse doesn’t want to win… it wants to kill. That horse had a direct line to Valhalla. The damn horse could see it. It was going to go past, over, around, or through anything in its way.

Here’s a different video I cued to start at 1:40. Look for a red hat jockey mounted on pure hell. He’s coming in on the inside and practically runs over the ass of the third place horse. Does Rich Strike slow down? Hell no, he moves to the outside and blows his opponent’s doors off. That pass is an amazing feat of man and animal. After that, it does some sort of supernatural turbo boost to gain the lead:

The jockey was no slouch either. In a pack of athletes, all of which were going for broke, Rich Strike’s jockey did shit that would be sketchy on a liter class sport bike. I’m not much of a horse rider so I hardly know what I was seeing. All I can say is I was impressed. He squeezed into places he couldn’t fit and bludgeoned his way into places smaller than that. And the horse was totally on board with this… if it had a knife it would have stabbed its way to the front.

The front horses had been trading the lead in a righteous battle of their own. They didn’t see the cruise missile with a jockey coming up their tailpipe until it was too late. Nor did anyone slack off. Rich Strike gained the lead and pushed until it won by half a length. I was practically jumping up and down just watching the YouTube video. I wouldn’t have been surprised if horse and rider had exploded as they crossed the line.

It’s not often you see such completely unfettered competition. That is what adds heart to life! To see an upset like that makes me smile. Rich Strike was pure determination wrapped in excellence and something clicked such that the beast detonated during the competition. Well done!

There is glory in excellence. Don’t let clingy socialist losers tell you anything different. Shifting student loan debts or whining about masks will never get the blood pumping like watching a horse charge into Valhalla!

A.C.

P.S. There will be a second part, but you shouldn’t wait for my bullshit. Instead just watch every camera angle of the marvelous race.

Note: After Rich Strike finished completely obliterating everything in his path, it took a bit of doing to calm him down. There’s a video of that here. A few pansies and dipshits are whining that it was bad but I see it differently. From the horse’s point of view it had just run the greatest chase it would ever experience. It probably had no idea if it was in Valhalla or Kentucky. It probably had no idea the race was over. It was on an adrenaline high and it was a bit unhinged for a minute. So be it! If you watched the last 30 seconds of that race you know what the creature was doing and how hard it was trying. No horse, perhaps no being, can switch from that close to God to fat flabby American on a couch without a struggle. If you don’t get what I’m talking about, keep watching Netflix because you’ve never run on your own ragged edge and will never understand. Loser!

I haven’t mentioned how much I hate the AMC Gremlin for a while. Does this mean I’ve mellowed? Have I allowed distance and time to soften the edges? Have I changed my mind? Hell no! I still hate ‘em!

I watched this review and was flooded with all the bad memories of AMC cars. It’s easy to forget the complete and utter level of suck that only Detroit and the cars of the oil embargo could produce. If you weren’t there to see it for yourself you simply must witness the fullness of the AMC’s Godawful majesty. Enjoy!

Given the same stimuli, different people will do different things.* Faced with a reduction in the sophistication, resiliency, and efficiency of society, I’m trying to “get my vehicular shit together”.

I came up with a name for it; “project daily driver”. (Not a creative name but I’ve been busy. Throw me a bone.)

A “daily driver” is a machine you can fire up and use right now without drama. If you’ve got a rusty Civic that you drove to work Tuesday and you’re confident it’ll be able to get you to work on Wednesday and thereafter without immediate issues, then it’s a daily driver… even if the radio is broke. For a daily driver, all the important shit is “good enough”, tires, engine, etc…

In 2022 I’m trying to level up so all of my machines are a daily drivers. I’ve never done this before.

Rural redneck cheapskates like me have many non-daily drivers in our lives. One variant is “I can jump start it when the snow melts”. Worse versions are “I’ll fix it someday” and “a tree fell on it but it’s still basically salvageable”. (Note: chainsaws that only start after much swearing or lawnmowers that are always throwing a belt are examples of non-daily drivers.)

Project daily driver isn’t a common reaction to modern times. I take it as a given that inflation, supply chain disruption (either by design or stupidity), and a teetering society drives a moment of action. That which can be done in 2022 is less than can be done in 2019. Will the trend continue in 2023? Who knows? I don’t know. You don’t know. We all have our guesses though. I’m acting on my guesses.

I made the leap from $5 gas and “parts that come from China are routinely stolen from container trains in LA” to “I’d better get my daily driver tuned up”. That’s my opinion. Your choices are yours to make.

The popular alternative is denial; “this inflation is transitory”, “things will get back to ‘normal’ once everyone has a vax”. I suppose another alternative is to freak out; “Musk bought Twitter, free speech is violence!”, “the Supreme court may rule in a way I don’t like, this is the worst thing in the history of all things that suck!” Preppers (at least of the simplest sort) have a steady state. They “stack ammo and gold!” But when does a prepper not stack ammo and metals? Do they stop doing it in good times? In bad? During inflation? During shortages? When do they sell the precious metals they’ve been stacking? What will they buy with it… more ammo?

Me, I want my machines fixed while I still can. I have (limited) access to (almost) competent mechanics, parts are (mostly) in stock, and I can still use greenbacks (of ever decreasing value) to buy both things.

There’s a problem with this. I have never ever managed to have all my machines running reliably at the same time. Most of my life I’ve owned shit. Fixing shit is a way of life. You’re never really done… you’re likely to spend decades treading water.

Also it’s tempting fate to have too many things running at once. Fixing a piece of shit car just means your piece of shit tractor breaks. If you fix the car and the tractor simultaneously, it just means your roto-tiller will catch on fire. There is no winning. In my life I’ve had a certain percentage of my mechanical stuff functioning and it’s always <100%.

Yet that’s my goal right now. I’m tempting fate. I’m burning cash. I’m giving it a shot.

Pray for me!

First step of project daily driver: 

I just got my cruiser running. I have a 20+ year old Honda cruiser that’s (as far as I’m considered) “good as new”. Ok that’s a bit optimistic. It’s not really new and it has 10x the miles that the average bar crawler would have put on one of similar age, but it’s not mechanically fucked either.

It’s a simple machine and I didn’t hot rod it. So it’s been amazingly reliable for me. There’s a lesson in this!

Anyway, when I bought my little Yamaha TW200 stump jumper I got distracted. The cruiser was ignored. It never left the garage in 2021. That’s bad! I have sinned. I must repent and atone for my bad behavior.

I started by shoveling through he wall of ice that blocks my garage. It’s still waist high!

Then I addressed the battery which (as predicted) is deader than a door nail. I’d like to be one of those guys that wisely and carefully maintains all their equipment batteries, but I’m just not that cool. I had a battery maintainer but it broke; I meant to replace it and then… didn’t.

I assumed I’d need a new battery (which is a bitch because this bike takes a weird size) but I put it on my charger and the charger resurrected it. I have a sophisticated charger with all sorts of features. It can’t fix all toasted batteries but it can coax life from some that I’d assumed were long dead. Go charger! (I’ll have the battery tested and replace if needed… it’s a daily driver after all!)

I assumed I’d left the carbs all gummed up but they sounded ok. A wise man runs the carbs dry before shutting down. I didn’t remember doing that but maybe I did. Yay me!

Then came the tank. Any gas that’s been sitting 2 years is shit. Especially the modern witches brew they call gas. But I opened her up and it looks like I topped off to the rim with gas. I think it had Sta-Bil in it!

It took a few cranks but eventually she fired. No tools needed!

Holy shit! I never have that kind of luck!

There’s more! I remembered the rear tire was shot. I planned to buy a new tire. But I looked at it and the tire looks fairly new. It’s fine.

She ran pretty well and I took her to a garage for routine maintenance and to check on the electric fan (which I recall didn’t work). I’m waiting on word about that. If I’m lucky I’ll have it up and running to daily driver level for a couple hundred bucks.

Yahoo!

Gift from past self:

This is a gift from my past self. Back in 2020 I must have swapped in a new tire, topped it off with fresh stabilized gas, and run the carbs dry. How awesome is that? I’d like to go back in time and thank myself. It’s like a magic gift from motorcycle Santa… but it’s really a gift to me / from me!

In case you’re wondering, I plan a 3-5K mile road trip this summer. Not anywhere photogenic or fun, just a place I’ve got to go so I can do a thing that needs doing. But gas is expensive so I’m going on 2 wheels. Why not? There’s no reason to sit at home bitching about fuel prices now that I’ve got a high MPG daily driver! Plus, motorcycles are fun.

Anyway, that’s my lucky day. How’re y’all doing?

A.C.

*This is why socialism, communism, fascism, and totalitarianism always fail. All force “one size fits all” solutions on human beings. Humans aren’t widgets, they’re varied. If you like vanilla ice cream and I like chocolate and the guy across the street likes strawberry, socialists would force us to fight it out. In the end, we’d all get banana flavored ice cream and be forced to pretend we like it. The strawberry guy would get his teeth kicked in as a lesson to the rest of us. Chocolate ice cream would be a black market luxury good. It would be smuggled in from some better place and served to politically powerful people who enjoy it more because I can’t have any. The vanilla guy would be allergic to bananas and break out in hives. Also the banana ice cream would have dogshit mixed in, because the people’s ice cream factory is run by people who are basically serfs. Beaten workers who don’t care about ice cream would get paid the same even if there’s a dog living in the mixing plant.

[Warning, the first few paragraphs went off the rails but I left them anyway. Feel free to fast forward to the horizontal rule below.]

Politics has gone from stupid to cosmically hyper-panicked AND galactically stupid. We all knew it was coming… or that it’s here. But does it have to be so… obviously dumb? Regardless, we shouldn’t let it into our heads.

I’m going to try to avoid bullshit today. I’m going to talk about something totally unrelated; camping gear! It isn’t deep but at least it’s a thing that doesn’t belly flop into the gravity well of impossibility. Seriously, I just have to say this because I can’t hold it in; none of us should be dumb enough to volunteer to get mired in bullshit like what’s happening now. “What is truth”? No sweat Plato, humanity has haggled over this since the first smelly apelike dude drew a mastodon on a cave wall… but we’ll handle it in 2022 as a reaction to Twitter having opposing viewpoints? “It’s all fixed, just fill out a form and the government will tell you what’s true.” Wow!

Who do we hire to know what is true? A lefty Fed of course! The Office of Personnel Management will follow that up by evaluating requests to get into heaven.

It’s a kind of dumb we didn’t used to see. Not long ago, people would be embarrassed to get that flaky. A government bureaucracy to determine which statements are true and which are “disinformation” is dumb on a level with… I don’t know, cutting your dick off or something. Which, now that I think about, has gone from a punchline to a thing schools suggest for children.

What’s next? I suspect the committee to determine how many angels can dance on the head of a pin has already drawn up plans.

Also, I’m sick of the word “misinformation”! The word is “lie” or “false” and for fuck’s sake, no organization can unerringly recognize truth any more than it can recognize beauty. “Trust us, we can only tell truth.” Really? That sounds like a Philip K. Dick plot device. “Smooth move Deckard, you whacked the replicant and are now twisted up about the meaning of humanity… you’re a fuckin’ cyborg aren’t you?” Modern politics has made Philip K. Dick relevant to daily life! The monsters!

People are struggling with concepts normal adults understood long ago. The Department of Misinformation will be followed by the Bureau of the Easter Bunny. People who never stopped being an eight year old shouldn’t be at the adult’s table.

Damn… fell off the wagon there. Sorry.

Well fuck it, I’m not deleting it.

Anyway, I’m on a kick with gasoline / white gas camping gear lately. I didn’t really organize my thoughts so it became a bunch of posts. In lieu of some clever arrangement, here’s the links in reverse order:

• Camping Discussion: WIN!
• Camping Gear Discussion: Photos & Testing
• Camping Gear Discussion: Restoring Old Friends And Buying Their New Counterparts

I just tested out my new Coleman Powerhouse Dual Fuel lantern. (Link goes to Amazon, if you buy from the link I get a haypenny kickback.) Unlike the dual fuel single burner campstove, which appears to be made of unobtanium, the lanterns seem to exist. Though even that is weird. I searched all over, found two and only two in a single brick and mortar store. I bought one and left one for some other lucky person and thought that I had something rare. Alas, I’d have gotten a better deal on Amazon. Whoops!

So what? I spent an extra five bucks, who cares?

Do I like it? I love it!

Do I recommend it? NO!

Unlike stoves, which must burn something to generate enough heat to make your morning coffee, modern pure-electronic lighting options are just so darned good that a lantern is only worth it if you enjoy it for it’s own sake. For most purposes, something made of batteries and LEDs is better for nearly any situation.

I freely admit I bought the lantern, unlike the stove, for illogical and romantic notions. I wanted a lantern like I used to have because they’re a happy memory to me. I’m Gen X, I wanted a hot, burning, hunk of explosive materials. If you’re Gen Z you’re probably thinking I’m nuts. You also probably harbor happy thoughts about your Nintendo Wii. To each his own!

Anyway, I didn’t get a free carrying case like the Amazon link. It kinda’ sucks I didn’t get a case, but then again I don’t like the Coleman cases that much. I’m already stuffing my stove in a coffee can, I’ll figure out something for the lantern in due time.

Lanterns (of these sort) need mantles. It came with a two pack in the box. I’ve got a few spares hanging around somewhere. Mantles are delicate so always have a spare set.

Burning off mantles is the weirdest process. It’s like voodoo, but it works.

The lantern came with a special funnel. So did the stove. I’ve never had a decent funnel. In all my years back in the old days when I used Coleman lanterns and stoves all the time, I was the third or fifth or tenth owner of a rusty old thing. The funnel was long gone. I’d spill gas on everything. The funnel does make a difference.

Another photo before the mantles are burned off. In case you’re wondering, I was indeed smart enough to tank it up, seal it up and do a leak test, and only then did I dink around with matches burning in the mantles. You just know someone has lit mantles while pouring fuel. They probably burned their eyebrows off.

Fuel lasts longer than it seems to when using propane. I’ve done many pots of coffee on the stove and refueled it a few times as part of the testing process. I wasted half the can trying to revive my old lantern and stove last fall. And now I’ve filled up a bone dry lantern. Yet, I’ve still got plenty left.

If I’d done the same with propane one pound cans I’d have a small pile of them accumulated somewhere. (Actually I do have a pile of 1# propane cans, I use them on my Mr. Heater while hunting or doing other cold weather things.) Anyway this is a genuine “pre-soaring gas prices” can. I’ll mourn it when it’s gone.

And there she is! Once it was lit up like a friggin’ monument to old school camping I just couldn’t stop smiling. For many practical reasons, a battery and LEDs is the far superior way to go. But there’s something more to the universe.

A few people own horses in a world that has the Honda Civic. They don’t think a horse is better than a car, except on a different level it’s vastly superior to sit in a leather saddle on a big smelly animal.

It’s good to enjoy something simply because you like it. I’m sure the Ministry or Truth will declare my statement invalid, but they’re just plain wrong.

My mind has been blown and I blame Sarah Hoyt! First some background. Strap in because I’m going to talk science and history. Sarah may not have phrased it that way but I’m seeing that I fell prey to the Gell-Man Amnesia effect.

Gell-Man Amnesia effect:

“Briefly stated, the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect is as follows. You open the newspaper to an article on some subject you know well. In Murray’s case, physics. In mine, show business. You read the article and see the journalist has absolutely no understanding of either the facts or the issues. Often, the article is so wrong it actually presents the story backward—reversing cause and effect. I call these the “wet streets cause rain” stories. Paper’s full of them.

In any case, you read with exasperation or amusement the multiple errors in a story, and then turn the page to national or international affairs, and read as if the rest of the newspaper was somehow more accurate about Palestine than the baloney you just read. You turn the page, and forget what you know.”
–Michael Crichton (1942-2008)

That’s for other people. I’m a clever dude. I pay attention to my sources of information. I  wouldn’t fall prey to stupid shit like that. Right? Right!?!

The Standard Narrative of Population Explosion:

Mind you, I’m painting with a broad brush here. Even so, my bullet points are about what anyone would tell you is roughly “the truth” about human population growth:

1. Human population grew incrementally about from when we were cavemen through to about 10,000 years ago. The advent of agriculture led to the pleasant effect of more humans surviving despite the accompanying curse of cities and bureaucracy. Populations slowly grew.
2. From the advent of agriculture through ancient Greece and Rome and the Middle Ages things slowly inched along and populations grew slow and steady. There were ups and downs, as one would expect, but at best it was incremental growth or an occasional die off. Occasionally there would be a big die off from something ugly like the Black Death (1347) or Genghis Kahn (1200s). In due time humans recovered from these upsets. Occasionally there would be a boost in population due improvements in farming technology such as the heavy plow (9th century medieval Europe) or good luck such as the Medieval Warm Period (950-1250). Often this paved the way for resource competition or depletion that knocked things back in future decades. (Note that a period of unusually warm weather was good for humans! Warm = good, cold = bad. I’m just sayin’.)
3. Beginning around the Industrial Revolution, the global human population went apeshit. It began to grow exponentially. This was due to mechanized agriculture (more food) and then later due to the advent of decent medicine (less infant mortality).
4. In the 1960s, everyone read The Population Bomb took a bong hit and went full retard.  Paul R. Ehrlich  predicted massive death through starvation. The cause would be overpopulation. Everyone bought it hook line and sinker. They had a group hug, invented earth day, and started bitching at everyone about recycling beer cans. This continues to this day. Meanwhile human starvation went into decline. There was less starvation than ever before in human history. This continues to this day. By now (2022), mass starvation has been virtually eliminated. This is the first time in human existence it has been so! Starvation is now limited to self-inflicted situations; usually socialist paradises (Venezuela, Stalin’s Russia, Mao’s China) or similar totalitarian hellscapes (North Korea). (Note that Ehrlich was literally the most wrong a human being could possibly get. He was wrong about the direction, timing, and amount of human death through starvation. It is literally impossible to be more wrong on that subject that Ehrlich.)
5. About the same time, Normal Borlaug, a biologist & scientist, was going full bad ass and just rocking the world on rice and grain yields. He ushered in the “green revolution” which vastly increased crop yields. Borlaug probably saved more lives that any other human in history. (As an aside, the Nobel prize used to mean something and now it doesn’t. In 1970, Borlaug got a Nobel prize for saving an estimated one billion human lives. In 2007, Al Gore got a Nobel prize for a PowerPoint presentation. In 2009, Barak Obama got a Nobel prize for breathing.)
6. It is clear that mass starvation was narrowly averted due to higher crop yields  but people have never stopped freaking out about population growth. Hippies, in particular, have never seen a fully stocked grocery store with cheap food without protesting it. Here’s a hint, if a hippie wants to meddle with the food supply, punch them in the head before you wind up starving. (Ask yourself which is more dangerous to your wellbeing: GMOs in your box of cheap plentifully available cornflakes or the Potato Famine of 1847? Hint, even if cornflakes suck, they haven’t killed about a million Irish people.)
7. Because nothing succeeds in academia like being incredibly wrong in a loud and flamboyant way; Professor Ehrlich enjoyed a long and distinguished career. He’s a Professor Emeritus of Population Studies at Stanford University. I assume he’s the inspiration for Paul Krugman, who also is never right about anything.

The standard narrative produces charts like this:

If you back off a bit on the hysterics and fiddle with the axes you’ll get charts that aren’t so scary. They tend to have a peak and gradual decline from the peak. This one is about 10 years old from Britannia. (They exist, who knew?) It shows the same basic thing as the earlier chart but on different scales.

It never occurred to me to doubt any of this. Clearly the population had grown. I’ve personally seen crops from 1970 and 2022 and the difference is absolutely amazing. Borlaug really did pull our ass out of a bad situation (with help of human ingenuity and possibly capitalism).

I’m forever frustrated by hippies who’ve latched on to death by overpopulation. They flog that shit like a Catholic priest bitching about eternal damnation due to original sin.

But it never occurred to me to doubt the actual measure of global population growth in the last century. Say, 1950 through last Monday. I just sorta’ went with it.

Sara Hoyt asked the question that surprised me in it’s obviousness. She posted EVERY GENERATION A BLAST FROM THE PAST FROM MARCH 9, 2020 and now I’m thinking too much!

“The other thing they have believed with credulous certainty is that the population figures from the UN are accurate, instead of being — at BEST — guesstimations, and accurately at worst a steaming pile of bull of excreta completely imaginary.”

Dammit!

“I’m not a hundred percent sure wh[y] people in other countries, like, say, Portugal, think that the population “count” makes any sense.  No, I’m serious. I don’t get it. Unless it is a rock bottom assumption that EVERYONE must be more organized then them. (Bizarrely it doesn’t even begin to be true.)  I know that they tend to believe our federal government has machine-like control over every aspect of civic and cultural life in the US (no.  I’m okay. Really, I’m okay. Let me have some water so I can stop laughing and type again.)

Only this illusion allows people to believe that — what is it now? 8 billion? Yeah. It’s about as accurate as climate modeling into the far future.  Computers and GIGO rule! — population count the UN puts out.”

T-rex on a pogo stick! Why have I never considered this?!?

Furthermore, I live in America. As far as I can tell, my observations fit her theories.

I’ve seen plenty of places with booming population but none where the boom is from birth. It’s is always a boom in population that arrived from somewhere else. If it wasn’t immigration (usually, but not always illegal) it was Californians (often fleeing their State with the inadvertent likelihood of replicating the same failed politics in their new home).

I’ve never personally witnessed a place in America growing in population due to Americans cranking out offspring. Sad but true. One exception: It seems like the Amish have grown a lot in Pennsylvania and Ohio and that’s probably not because of lots of Millennials chucking their cell phone to join the community. So maybe they’re the exception and more power to ’em. Even so, they’re rounding errors compared to Chicago or Miami.

Sara doesn’t give up. She has an answer to the immigration angle too. She twists the knife in my preconceived notions (Note: I added the emphasis.):

“Now, why did the west open their doors?

My guess is because our leaders have some inkling of how bad things are in terms of how many people are in the upcoming generations.  My guess is that they are becoming scared, because — get this — nonexistent people cannot have children.

As much as most people like to pretend I’m crazy when I say I think our world population is already falling (why this would be any more crazy than the UN’s baseless assertion that we’re drowning in babies, I don’t know) that’s what the actions of the government of EVERY developed country are doing.

They are in a desperate fight for resources: the biggest resource of all: PEOPLE.

The west is willing to take welfare cases and illiterate peasants, in the hopes — I would guess — that their children will be productive citizens.”

Holy shitsnacks! Forgetting the wisdom of unlimited illegal immigration, the amount and direction and trends I’ve seen in the several states I’ve lived don’t disagree with Sarah’s theories.

Don’t you just hate it when you had a notion and then realize there’s another completely reasonable theory that explains behavior just as well? I just believed the UN? Why the heck was I doing that?

I had to ask myself. Are the UN / Global population numbers for real? What do I think of my source:

• “How often has the UN been right about anything?”
• “How often are governments correct with statistics like this?”
• “If there was an error in population statistics, would the bias be to overestimate or underestimate? Which one brings more prestige, power, electoral votes, NGO funds?”

To which I answer:

• Almost never.
• Almost never.
• Always overestimate!

She’s got a point. After a lifetime of seeing government statistics and UN statistics and witnessing that they’re incredibly unreliable… just exactly why the hell would I think they’re correct this time and for this particular subject?

I’m pissed off that I hadn’t thought of this before!

I’m not the only one that thinks Sarah is onto something. Dio’s Workshop had a similar reaction to mine.

“What if, and I have no way to verify, no one does, but logic and historical precedents tell me its highly likely, that UN figures are complete bunk and Sarah’s estimate of Less than Half stated figures of world population are correct, then literally every talking point on Gorbalworming/Peak Oil/GreenEnergy will save the planet/we need to reduce the population (why if its already half of what they claim?) etc etc etc,,,  Every! Single! Point! they try to use to keep things in line is bullshit if just that number is off by half.”

Indeed.

I haven’t enough personal experience to form global opinions based exclusively on my own experience but I have traveled extensively in the USA. I know for damn sure our growth is mostly imported and not breeding. I also have been hammered relentlessly to report as much as possible to every census and head counter in creation. I live in a sparse poor farming community and at every census they’re flipping over rocks to find every last person. They sure as hell don’t check to make sure you’re telling the truth. I could claim I’ve got sixty people living in my chicken coop and they’d love it!

They’ve got a clear motivation. They want poor, they want many, they want minorities. They count every molecule that hints at it. If they find Bigfoot’s tracks they’ll count him as an underrepresented minority of large footed hominids in need of funding and next year there will be a project based on Bigfoot outreach.

Also I have a homestead and you’d be amazed how much shit the Dept. of Agriculture generates to try and fluff up farm numbers. (I’m just one guy… super small time. I’m a friggin’ rounding error. Ignoring me would make sense. Yet they’re always poking and prodding to count acres and such. (It feels like this: “Could you conceivably claim to have 100 head of cattle?” “Are you shitting me? I can barely keep up with a flock of chickens and a handful of pigs. I haven’t got time for fucking cows.” “OK, I’ll check the box for ‘under 100’, do you also have less than 100 zebras?” Get the fuck off my land.”)

I haven’t verified the same thing overseas. Maybe I’d think differently if I’d spent some time in Africa… or maybe not. (I did spend some time in Portugal; which is Sarah’s home. I thought Portugal was growing fast fast fast not unlike an American suburb. But I didn’t see lots of children and large families. I have no idea what the immigration of the time was or where the need to build fast food joints and malls was coming from. I’ll defer to Sarah about her home country.)

Here’s the deal. Sarah’s theories, that we’re already past a peak in population and sliding down the backside, wouldn’t differ from my personal observations. It’s also my experience that the UN has been wrong about anything it says since Woodrow Wilson created the damn idea. The US government data is about as reliable as you’d expect. (Does anyone buy US government estimates of inflation anymore?) Nor does the US have a great track record of intellectual competency. Did they predict the collapse of USSR? Did they manage the budget without massive debts? Heck, how often does the presidential election appear squeaky clean?

So, I’ve had a simple basic illusion shattered today. I’m pondering how weird that makes me compared to everyone else who still buys standard narrative and how dumb that made me in the past. How’s your day going.

Elon Musk just bought Twitter. Pending the inevitable legal wrangling the dude will own it, lock, stock, and barrel. Since everyone is apparently required to have an opinion, I’ll offer mine.

Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha….

Now don’t get me wrong, for some people this is a big deal. The thought that Elon Musk will own Twitter is simply terrifying to them. Thus, I offer my sympath… Bwa ha ha ha… I just can’t say it with a straight face. I have absolutely no sympathy. Hate Musk? Build your own media outlet. Can’t do that? Learn to code bitches!

I don’t give a fuck about anything that ever happened on Twitter. It’s the land of woke bullshit and is (as far as I can tell) irredeemable. I don’t care if Elon reforms it, rebuilds it, improves it, or takes a dump on it.

Any forum that cancels a sitting president and not Isis has gone past the batshit event horizon. I’d no more expect reason from its fans than I’d expect a carrot to understand geometry.

Their misery is self-selected, self-inflicted, and pretty much imaginary. Which really means it’s hilarious. “Oh no, I won’t be able to have a social media outlet that carefully eliminates all people with whom I disagree!” Really? What kind of adult thinks like that?

Anyone who’s desperately invested in a particular form of Twitter is a person who’s utterly irrelevant. The silver lining is this; maybe a few of the lost ones will come to their senses. This is their best chance to set down the keyboard, let go of the tactical Twinkie, lever their ass out of their basement, and go for a walk. Walk… outdoors. Rejoin reality. Maybe get a real job, or at least plant a garden. As my grandmother often said; “It’s good for what ails ya!”

The map isn’t the terrain. The finger isn’t the moon. Twitter isn’t even remotely relevant to a life well lived. It’s a place where dumb people say snarky things to manipulate dumber people.

We all knew that years ago. I don’t have a Twitter account. I never did. Most Americans don’t have a Twitter account. Because we’re not fuckin’ idiots.

Twitter started pointless and became destructive. Any concept constrained within Twitter’s specifications and censorship is shallow, oversimplified, without nuance, and… lets be honest here… retarded.

Twitter was built from the ground up to be the home planet of confirmation bias. A small herd of people telling each other the bullshit they wish was true in the hopes that a large thundering mass of dumbasses will follow them off the cliff. The fact that large thundering herds of dumbasses mainlined bullshit straight to their cerebral cortex, like a hive mind of clueless bots, is not news to anyone who’s paying attention. If you’ve read history, experienced college, or interacted with the purple haired harpy at the Karen convention, you already knew all about it.

The Twitterari claim superiority to us unwashed masses but it’s a claim without substance.  A bluff propagated by human marshmallows.

Great swaths of humanity are immune to their crap. They get information in a better form than a pre-digested woke-paste regurgitated by a big blue momma-bird and puked down our neck. We have depth. We have reason. We have experiences, skills, knowledge, and (this is important) humanity. We engage with the actual universe in which we live. Crucially, we observe results rather than getting in a lather about intentions. We know what “unexpected consequences” means because we care about consequences. We build stuff, fix things, manage our own affairs, and many of us even do silly things like read books.

The left is losing its shit as Elon strolls up just one hill in their mountain range of stupid. They’ve a plethora of options to stroke their needy egos. That should be sufficient. Yet they freak out at the challenge to a single one of their treasured pacifiers? The woke control damn near every form of social media in creation, along with just about every institution from the Church to the the Military to the Press to Netflix… all of which degrade under their childish mismanagement. They still flip their shit over a single source of external validation! How brittle can you get? Apparently that brittle.

On a more thoughtful level, the Z-Man weighs in:

“Gab has been up and running since 2016 and it offers what conservatives claim they want in a platform. Even better, it is free from the deranged lunatics that have ruined other platforms. Conservatives dismiss it because they say it is an echo chamber, by which they mean it lacks the people they claim to hate. They avoid alternatives to Twitter because they want to beg lefty for forgiveness and those platforms do not provide it.”

Remember when I said I didn’t have a Twitter account? I do have a Gab account (not in my blog’s name). There’s plenty of bullshit on Gab too but it’s not a relentless crap tornado.  With a little less censorship, I get a lighthearted mix of opinions (kooks and thoughtful alike). Plus a bit of humor. Some good, some bad, as with all human things. It’s better than Twitter which is singularly inhuman. Twitter demands groveling (as Z-Man wisely describes) as part of its experience of miserable joyless Kafkaesque woke bludgeoning.

The other good news is that I’m absolutely loving the spectacle of feces flinging monkeys going into apoplectic fits. They’re raging over the slightest risk to their little kindergarten-level sandbox. There are chihuahuas on meth who are less frantic than Twitter spastics. Who knows, a few might learn from this. They could pull out of the dipshit spiral and become more interesting people? Nah… if they had that level of self awareness, they wouldn’t care about Twitter in the first place.

Of course Babylon Bee is spot on. Plus the ‘net is awash in delightful memes. Enjoy them! Having survived Biden’s winter of death, we could use a good laugh.

Take it away NPC:

Robert Reich had something to say; which is to say Mr. Reich said something stupid. He’s the only man on planet earth with a worse track record of being correct than that galactic dipshit Paul Krugman. If Reich says it, it’s dumb. Lay your wisdom on me Rob:

Now that the bludgeon is in the other hand, the woke are suddenly less happy with bludgeons. Of course, nothing will come of it but Captain Circle Back has mentioned a baby step in the right direction. Tell me about misinformation sweetheart! You know I like it when you talk dirty:

You know… this is just one of dozens of bright signs of life out there. The last 15 months… the last 5 years… the last… whatever unit of time you prefer to call it, has had lots of disappointments. Sometimes it felt unbearably dark. The center cannot hold. The ratchet tightens. The flame smolders and starts to go out. Wisdom ebbs and witch hunters rise. Society re-enacts failures of other eras. Mobs run amok. They persecute the innocent and build pedestals for the demented. They destroy without building and hate without healing. They eat the seed corn and salt the fields.

But the story isn’t over yet. It’s never truly over. And it isn’t all dark. There is hope. Hope feels like it’s growing. Elon doesn’t mean shit, but the woke going into spasms over such a minor tribulation tells us they’re already hollow. Their monster is a construct. It is without substance and lacks persistence. It is a house of cards. The world can’t bow in submission. It’s not made that way. Even if it wished to, the world cannot remake itself in the service of… nullity.

That which cannot continue, won’t. The woke got every fucking thing they want. More or less complete control everywhere; not just nationally but across Western Civilization. And they’re miserable. They seated a meat puppet, the economy corrodes, they can’t even keep Disney from self immolation. We didn’t push them off the ledge, they jumped. We might as well enjoy the show.

Once in a while shit works out!

A couple weeks ago I wrote Camping Gear Discussion: Restoring Old Friends And Buying Their New Counterparts and followed up with Camping Gear Discussion: Photos & Testing. People get into camp stoves. I even induced Filthie to start a poll.

All this because I was overthinking choices about and subsequently pleased as a peach with my new camp stove:

Ain’t she a beauty? (Yes, I use “ain’t” as a legit word… I can do that because I know it makes me sound like an illiterate troglodyte dipshit and am doing so ironically. That’s how I roll! What bothers me is that my spell checker corrects my placement of the apostrophe in a word that’s, in my humble opinion, not a word. My software simply accepts shit like that! This is like correcting my use of irregardless or former President Bush Jr. asking “is our children learning”. What a dumb world in which we live! Don’t you feel it too? Is it any wonder one of the more popular Squirrels characters is deadly grammarian Edna Kampsett? Spoiler alert, Edna is also known as “The Inspector” and will have another role in due time. Alas, I digress.)

The stove works great and I’ve been randomly brewing coffee in the house with it. Note: using a camp stove in a house is officially a thing that no sane person would recommend. I certainly don’t encourage you to play with fire on your kitchen table. I’m just saying I do it. Just for the record, the ensuing coffee is delicious!

I also whipped up one of these: Jiffy Pop! What a blast from the past! I’ve got an air popper like a civilized human being, but sometimes it’s fun to relive old joys. (Warning, the link goes to a case!  Don’t buy a case unless you want a case. I bought mine locally, not via Amazon.)

I had been planning to build a carry case for the camp stove out of sewer pipe. (Calm down, I’d buy new pipe at the hardware store!) Unfortunately, the stove won’t fit into a perfectly cylindrical object like you’d expect. The pressure pump sticks out on one side. I curse the asymmetry of it!

So I went on E-bay looking for a padded bag to hold for the Coleman 533. (I still have the padded bag for my Coleman 400 and it’s in decent shape. Not bad for a device that’s older than the Millennials that are taking over from Boomers as Gen X like me get skipped over… not that I’m bitter. Oh, did that come out in my outside voice? Whoops.) What I’m saying is that I have camping gear that’s older than the median living human and some of it works fine. There’s also a squarish plastic case that Coleman made back in the day but I’ve got one for my old lantern and I’m unimpressed with the design.

I found a padded bag made by Coleman and fitted to the model stove I have. I clicked on it and the price was $33. Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?

$33 for a sewn bag? E-bay can kiss my ass.

I decided to search elsewhere. Somewhere in the bowels of the internet I got a hint. I tested it out and holy shit it’s awesome! I went to a local store and bought one of these. (Warning, the Amazon link goes to a six pack. Unless you have a half dozen camp stoves or really like Folgers, just buy one. Also I get a tiny kickback every time someone buys from an Amazon link on my blog, now you’ve been warned. Up next, blipverts.)

For reasons known only to the intelligence which created the universe, the “grab handle” on a 30.5 ounce plastic Folgers coffee container are the exact right size to counteract the asymmetry of the pressure pump on an otherwise round device. The height is more or less perfect too. The stove fits so incredibly perfectly that I just can’t get over it.

Just look at it!

If I sat down with a micrometer and attempted to 3d print a better container, I doubt I could do it! It’s a snug fit. Not too tight, not too loose.

The lid is (sadly) just friction fit, bit it fits on just right. There’s very little wasted space. With the lid on, it’s more or less waterproof (certainly just fine for a non-sensitive camp stove). Because it fits snugly, the stove doesn’t rattle around loosely. It’s a match made in heaven. Speaking of which, there’ just enough room in there for a small pack of matches or a small ferro rod sparker. Nice!

It’s not backpacking gear. The stove is a smidge portly and heavy, but it’s pretty good. I’d feel comfortable letting the Folgers protected stove roll around in the truck or sit on a shelf in the garage.

I paid under $9. Also, it came with 39 ounces of free… um… coffee. I suppose, if I were the zombie apocalypse, I could get over my coffee snobbery and actually brew Folgers. (Right now the coffee is in a plastic bag in the freezer and looks exactly like I’m trying to hide a package of cocaine from drug sniffing dogs. Is that a thing or did I just see that in a movie once?)

Anyway, if you ever see a big plastic can of Folgers on the tailgate of a Dodge at a campsite (or in the vicinity of a little Yamaha dirt bike), that’s me.