Today, the nation's Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth (nee National Guard veteran and Fox News media persona) renamed the military base Fort Liberty and restored implemented the old new name of Fort Bragg.
You might--as I initially did--think that this is another MAGA example of reclaiming America and striking down Woke overreach. And it is that. But not (?) in the direction that is at first obvious.
The Bragg being honored here is not the original Bragg who was indeed a Civil War general and thus was the target for renaming initially by the well-meaning politicians and people who wanted to avoid honoring people in active rebellion against the United States. Rather, as Hegseth explained, this Bragg is a World War II private who won a Silver Star and a Purple Heart.
So . . . that is progress in a sense. At least we aren't returning to the Bragg that was considered "one of the worst generals of the Civil War" and someone who was "widely disliked . . ."
And still . . . why waste even a few minutes of the government's time? What was wrong with promoting the concept of (Fort) Liberty?
And even the most important part of this act (in my opinion) . . . is the calculated way that Hegseth has his cake and eats it too. To most people who see the headline and scroll along with their day, they will think that an actual restoration to the Confederate Bragg was achieved. And those people to whom that matters will feel a frisson of excitement that the libs were owned again. Woke was weakened and MAGA rose again.
Was that Hegseth's intent? Did he want the easy headline, assuming that a deeper investigation would not really occur. And if it did, he would have coverage by pivoting to the matching name but for a better person?
I don't know. But the part of me that is daily angry about the performative nature of politicians feels that this is just another example of superficial crap that shows how shallow people in power truly are and how much time and energy is wasted on stuff that doesn't actually end up helping anyone.
(And yeah, I wasted 10 to 15 minutes writing out this to be read by no one.)
The reports are finally coming in and the waves of ballot counts are slowing down. The media is beginning to officially declare that they are willing to project that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris did in fact win Tuesday's presidential election.
President Trump is away from the White House this afternoon, golfing in Virginia. Maybe he is doing so because his staff knew the projections were coming today. And they wanted to cocoon him away from the crowds that are celebrating around the White House today.
But that didn't stop the Trump staff from releasing a statement that continued to call this election result fraudulent. And Trump promised to continue pushing his legal challenges against the vote counting. And he made it publicly clear that he rejects the people's choice and he thinks it is false. He thinks that he is more important than over 71 million people, American citizens, who have chosen someone else to run the country for the next four years.
And his fellow party members are also allowing this to happen. They have ceased to be independent operators, free-thinkers, supporters of the rules and the precedents of the country that they spend so much time telling us that they love. They are staying silent in the face of Trump's fear-mongering. They refuse to resist him publicly. They are also showing--as Trump is showing--that power is their only metric. They are much more concerned about staying in the good graces of the people who habitually vote Republican. Because all they want to do is stay in a seat of power. And if they oppose Trump right now. If they try collectively to speak out against him and his legal challenges. If they try to actively, as a group, make it clear that this election was accurate and that the president must accept the outcome, then they are afraid that they will lost re-election the next time they try to stay in power. And staying in power is all that they want.
All of the patriotism and flag waving and lapel-pin wearing that they use to appeal to voters is just an empty facade, a costume, a ritual that they must undergo to gain power and wield it. They do not yet show the conviction and personal courage necessary to speak out against Donald Trump. Will they ever have it?
If Trump continues his legal challenges, he'll likely face the considered judgment of federally appointed judges that were put there by Republican presidents. (Because the GOP Congress is really good at not doing that particular job when a Democrat is in the White House.) But those judges don't have to run for re-election. So they are (hopefully) secure enough in their own self-worth and self-definition--something that is NOT tied up in voter approval--that they can judge the merits of Trump's legal challenges on the truth of the evidence. And I hope that they judge rightly.
So, if that occurs . . . then Trump's legal challenges may fail. And then the weeks are short before the January inauguration of President-elect Biden must occur. Because this is what our Constitution requires. And this is what our Congress has passed. And this is how our nation has done things 45 different times before. And Republicans love to celebrate the wonderful and exception nature of the United States. And this peaceful relinquishment of power is one of the MOST exceptional parts of that story that they love to tell.
So . . . will they be part of that?
Will they stand up for that story?
Can they look beyond themselves and resist the simple-minded nature of Donald Trump? Something that is no surprise to anyone who know Trump. Can they stand up for the country they SAY that they love? Or do they truly only love themselves and the benefits of power?
A smattering of my random thoughts and phrases--some of which were typed into social media and then deleted. Some of which were actually published.
"All I want to do is cry."
"Fuck."
"I've got to . . . something. But . . . As my Pappaw used to say 'Sometimes I think to myself . . . Well?! . . . But then again, I don't know."
I shouldn't be surprised by the delay in school starting. (And to be clear, it's not that school is delayed. It is that going back into the school has been postponed.)
This is not surprising.
Lynda and I spent hours Tuesday night debating whether or not to allow Grace and Hannah to go back into the building for the hybrid model. We considered the 100% digital model (Westerville Virtual Academy.) We thought about the quality of instruction with all options. We weighed the risks. And we finally decided to let them go back into the school.
And then, this morning, the rug was pulled out from under us again.
How many rugs are we standing on these last many months? How many shoes can drop? How many disappointments can we weather?
Hannah will be separated from her friend more. Grace's band season looks even more tenuous than ever--JUST WHEN SHE WAS GETTING INTO IT. Not to mention her challenging AP-heavy course load this year . . .
I just don't have any more energy to think about this today.
I'm frustrated and tired and heartsick of how everything is so topsy-turvy because of this virus. And I am not upset for myself. My life is very set and my job is continuing and while I don't enjoy working from home every day, I realize that many of my problems are of my own design and I have no meaningful complaints.
I am angry for my children, who are trying their best to grow up amidst all of this uncertainty. I am frustrated that they have to hold onto hopes that keep getting dashed. I am disappointed that nothing can be promised and that everything is negotiable. Even though they are privileged and lucky, they are being denied simple things that provide stability to their days. And they are looking forward to big things this year.
Sarah turns twenty this week and is uncertain about what her classes will be like for the fall semester. It was hard learning art via computer last year and the prospects for fall don't seem much different right now. And Sarah--to her credit--is taking the virus pretty seriously and remains cautious about how she goes about in the world while this is going on.
Grace is preparing for band camp over the next two weeks--despite the challenges of gathering kids together for the activity. But the staff and the parents have worked diligently this summer to make the band experience a good one for everyone, even with all of the unknowns in from of us. I pray that Grace can make her way through this senior year with meaningful memories of this very important part of her high school career.
Hannah is growing into her middle school years. She is becoming herself amongst the restrictions of COVID, somewhat isolated from her friends, and having a diminished summer because of it. No middle schooler wants to stay home with her parents all the time . . . but she has accepted much of it with reasonably good grace.
It's been almost two weeks since my last post and . . . well . . .
This year just keeps going, huh?
When I started this COVID section of WWYG?! I was doing it because this was an unusual aberration in my routine. Working from home, kids driven from school, a virus pandemic trembling the national/global landscape in historic ways. Something you might want to blog about and comment on from time to time.
And the numbers in my "at home" blog titles just kept ticking higher and higher. Everyone's counter started on a different day but mine has now reached day 92.
But that isn't what this is about.
Because while COVID is a real presence that hasn't gone away and definitely isn't done with us and we are for sure going to see some renewed waves of its presence in the coming months . . . other events have raised up their hands and said, "Hey, remember us?"
Because on Memorial Day George Floyd was murdered by Minnesota police for being black. And before him Ahmaud Arbery made the unfortunate decision to try and be healthy outdoors in Brunswick, Georgia. And also Breonna Taylor forgot to keep one eye open in the middle of the fucking night. And on, and more, and my God . . .
So, hey--COVID? Take a seat over there to the side and let's, unfortunately, ignore you for a minute (It's not like we aren't willingly ignoring you for the love of the almighty dollar anyway.)
But anyhow, we've got some other stuff to talk about.
Because African Americans in this country have been shit upon for so long that I am unable to lay it out for you. First--because I am so embarrassingly privileged and unaware of the issue I have no business trying to do so. But also because it takes a historian's dissertation-level of thought, detail, and researched care to do justice to the level of injustice and inhumanity suffered by African Americans in the United States for centuries.
This is not the place to talk about the minuscule improvements that you might want to cite even within my particular lifetime. Any such token examples do not eliminate the ongoing systematic and psychological and unconscious inequality placed upon African Americans every hour of every year in every space of public living.
So--in no particular order.
NASCAR announced yesterday that it was banning the Confederate flag from all of its races and official events. This is a good and simple thing that should be accepted and we all move on. (Though I know we won't.) NASCAR's history is deeply rooted in Southern culture. But whatever someone might say about the Confederate battle flag also being rooted in Southern heritage . . . stop. They are correct. It IS rooted in an intentional history of inequality, racism, terror, and intimidation.
This flag was always the symbol of a misguided vision of some racist Americans' view of the Constitution. It was used after World War II to symbolize a region's inability to reckon with its segregationist past and its inability to accept the change demanded by the Civil Rights Movement. It has become the symbol of white separatists who carry it alongside the fucking Nazi swastika. Remove it, get rid of it, be ashamed of it.
In the continuing ripples of the George Floyd protests, statues of Confederate individuals are being torn down. No longer are people content to debate and wait for consensus on these statues that dot communities large and small across the United States. It is ugly and angry. People are uncomfortable. And that is how it needs to be. The history of these statues is as tied to segregationist racism of the 1950s and 1960s as the Stars and Bars and the Ku Klux Klan. Stop hiding from this ugly truth and listen to people who have their own ugly truths to express. Give these protesters the honor of their humanity and hear their pain. Learn what these statues mean to THEM. And consider why they must be removed from places of community honor.
HBO Max pulled Gone with the Wind from its streaming library. I'll admit that when I first heard about this, my immediate and unconscious reaction was negative. And that only exposes me to the internal honest work that I need to keep doing to make me live up to everything that I've typed above and try to think about myself. Luckily, one of my former coworkers posted this YouTube video on Facebook the day that I heard about this story. And I watched it. And I find it persuasive in its absolute obviousness. I regret my blinkered gut reaction to the streaming decision.
Where does this conversation end? I don't know but you can't end it right now.
We've got to open our ears and hear. We've got to open our hearts in love. Until we do those things, nothing will, nor should stop. Why should any people stop fighting for the equality that we always say should be theirs?
Today was a challenging day. And that was due to my own internal reaction to the day. Outside forces stayed out of my way. But my own perception of everything around me set my own personal tone for this day and affected how I moved through it and how I responded to it.
And that is a very important thing for me to think about, to acknowledge, and to understand.
Outside of myself, it was just a day. We got up. We ate. I worked. The kids worked. I kept an eye on what the kids were doing. I started some tasks. I participated in meetings. Nothing too difficult. All things I've done before and will do again.
But my perception of those things colored my experience. The assumptions that I made. The attitude that I carried with me. The inner life of me fought itself closer to the front and demanded to push me in directions. And helped set my tone throughout the day. And told me how I should feel about it all. Not because of how all of those things objectively were. But how that part of me thought I should perceive them and how I should about them.
I'm psychoanalyzing myself here for all of you to enjoy (?), so I hope any part of this might be universalized for your own use sometime in your future. Otherwise, I should've just typed it out on the screen and saved it for a folder marked PRIVATE.
But that is not how blogging works, I guess. Or at least not how I'm choosing to work it today.
There have been times in the past fifteen years when I've publically blogged about stuff that I probably should have dumped in a PRIVATE folder. One particular moment comes to mind several years ago when the kids were much smaller and I was struggling as a parent. I wrote some things and published them and got asked some questions. All well-meaning interactions. But I took the post down and a part of me said that I should keep some parts of my dirty laundry to my own basement and not feel free to just hang it out for everyone to see it dry.
And when I've done things similar to that in recent years (or even today), I have tried to keep it general and vague. (Really good writing technique, to be general and vague. But I quit trying to chase clickbait a long time ago here at WWYG?! studios, so I'm just doing it for myself now.)
This is the sort of post that won't make any sense in five minutes, much less five months from now. But I felt the need to drop a few lines down and to remind myself that how I am is MY responsibility.
I took two days off. And I can’t think of anything good to say. I want to keep blogging, but if there is nothing to say then why bother?
. . .
The voice to text was not working either. So everything is against me. I came outside to sit on the front porch and get some fresh air. And it’s chilly and it’s not sunny and I’m tired of everything. Can you relate?
Hannah is working on schoolwork all the time--as often as I can force her to. (She’s got a project due tomorrow that I’ve been hounding her to complete for two weeks.) Sarah is working on her finals. Her semester ends next week. She’s tired and stressed out and can’t sleep. Grace is always up in a room working. Lynda is up in her room working. I’m downstairs at the table working. Life is just an endless series of home days, home days, home days.
Will it ever warm up outside?
Will THIS ever end?
There’s got to be something to look forward to,
But what?!
***
Today is the last day of the primary round of the #OfficialHat2020 voting. Starting tomorrow, there will only be two remaining #HatofSummer choices.
I didn't post yesterday because I just didn't have much of interest to write about. (Some may say That's never stopped you before! And I try to ignore those people.) I did briefly consider on Monday night writing yesterday a fictionalized short story of sorts. Most likely it wouldn't have been long enough to even be considered a short story. So it might have been for the best that I never tried it. The idea was a way of expressing some Monday thoughts I had about the cats we are fostering. And I'm not clever enough to pull that off without being annoying and obvious.
(Boy, my writing lately has been full of vague passive aggression hasn't it? I guess I've either got to learn to be more direct or to get over things more quickly.)
As for today? Laptop computer work for several hours ahead of me (as I jot down these thoughts in the morning while drinking coffee and preparing to dive it). Then helping with dinner/cleanup. And then facing the evening hours. We'll probably watch some LOST--or at least some of us will. Last night Grace, Hannah, and I watched "Everybody Hates Hugo." as well as ". . . And Found."
***
In other news, I quickly checked the mid-week results of the #HatofSummer voting and it looks like we are finding some early favorites.
The Martin's BBQ hat is getting some family love. But there is still lots of weeks ahead. So you can cast multiple votes for your favorite any time, all the time. Follow this link to make your voice heard.
***
Finally, a random thought as I sit here later in the day to close out this post and move on to a different phase of the day. What do I dislike the most about life? Probably the need to be partially responsible for the food-related needs of others. If I could just come and go as I needed to and get the food I wanted when I wanted, that would be optimal. But I joined myself with others and the two of us are now responsible for even more people. And so, the daily struggle for food and nourishment looms. Sometimes I wish we just had basic things like the protein cakes in Snowpiercer or stuff like that. But no! Once again capitalism confused and complicates everything. We are prosperous and so variety is built-in and expected!
I took yesterday off from blogging about this mess. And today I was very engaged with lots of work tasks and lots of meetings. I've only just now finished things up enough to even think if there is anything worth writing about.
And right now? No, not really.
Once Lynda got done working, she and the girls spent the last half-hour or so playing with the mother cat and her kittens. The kittens, by the way are maybe two weeks old? Still quite small and barely moving much on their own. Only yesterday did they start venturing out of the crate and trying to explore--and that is still pretty occasional. The mother cat nurses them pretty well and seems to like hiding them (when they aren't in the crate) alongside the unfinished wall of the basement where I propped up two old wall-sized mirrors. It gives a narrow channel of tight space that I assume she finds comforting. But who knows? Maybe she is trying to get rid of them. Not all animals are good parents, I guess. But Lynda, Sarah, Grace, and Hannah won't let anything bad happen to these kittens. They will intervene whatever the price to be paid
Maybe it is my cold, black heart, my black-painted fingernails, or maybe it is the fact that I spent several days last week reading manuscript about Social Darwinism, twisted evolutionary theories of nineteenth-century urban America . . . but I think they intervene too much. They are letting these kittens imprint on them and I'll never be able to get rid of them when this foster situation "comes to an end." I knew the second I let these animals into the house I was doomed.
Oh well. I guess I'd better create some PowerPoint presentations about the Prime Directive, so the rest of my family will gain a better understanding of when it is appropriate to intervene in the lives of lesser species.
I must really, really be getting nuts because of this stay-at-home quarantine nonsense. Because I can't believe what I agreed to yesterday.
We're fostering a kitten.
And not just a kitten. It seems that we agreed to foster a mother cat and several kittens: four kittens, apparently. When this was first brought to my attention, I was only told about one kitten. But I guess they are so small, they can't be separated. Or whatever.
So, after years--literal YEARS--of not letting the kids get pets, we are getting about ten years of pets in one day. I KNOW I'm going to simultaneously regret this and enjoy it. But right now I can only experience the regret.
And you know what is even better? The cat family is going to be set up in the basement--the very part of the house that I worked hard to make nice and livable for Lynda to work in two weeks ago. I know Lynda and the girls are moving stuff around down there and getting an area set up for the cats to stay in. And part of me just doesn't want to find out what is happening and how my nice space is being completely rearranged.
Of course, up until now, NO ONE wanted to go down in the basement for any reason. And just as soon as I set it up in a semi-decent fashion. (And really it's NOT so great anyway. I just rearranged some furniture and hung a few pictures on the walls to make it seem more human.) But anyway, it's going to become a cat den now. And who knows for how long?
This is only a foster situation. I am NOT intending for these cats to be here long term. But I'm sure that is probably wishful thinking on my part. I guess we'll see what happens.
But the shelter-in-place situation has just been cranked up to a whole new level here in my house. We'll see who survives it best NOW. I just know that the kids have no more reason to complain about being bored.
Work went all right. My worries about what I had to accomplish today was misunderstood by me so my task level was more do-able than I feared.
Grace and Hannah started back to digital school today and it definitely didn't keep them busy all day. And we Ohio-ians (sp?) learned this afternoon that Governor DeWine was extending the school closures for another month. May 1 is now the new target date for returning to school. We'll see--both, whether it could possibly go shorter than that (extremely unlikely) or longer than that.
Every day is just a new day of unknowns.
And every day I've got to figure out something to blog about. Because that is what I set out to do during this nonsense, so I've got to stick to it.
Can you help?
What sorts of things do you want to see me write about? Do you have any burning questions about what my exciting life is really like? Do you want to separate out the myths of real David and blogger Dave? Do you have any questions about the decade-plus of blogging that I've done? Want to know how the blog-sausage really gets made?
Anything and everything is up for grabs . . . except for the long-standing commitment to never discuss the marital bed. Longtime readers of WWYG?! know that I've never talked about it and I never will. Go ahead. Wave that book deal money in my face. You'll never get me to crack!
But other than that . . . what do you want to know? I'm not that inventive so I need help!
In random news: Sarah, Grace, and Hannah sit down with me most evenings and watch my LOST DVDs. We're very close to finishing Season 1 and at this pace will be finishing up Season 2 before this shelter-in-place/coronavirus/blog every day commitment ends. Which means that I may finally get to add more entries to my LOST Rewatch thread. (You can read the current posts in that WWYG category here: http://www.whywontyougrow.com/p/the-lost-rewatch.html
About a week ago, I briefly wrote a Facebook post related to the #HatofSummer campaign. And I didn't want it to be pushed live right away, because I wasn't fully done filming the videos and getting all of my digital ducks in a row. So I set that post as PRIVATE and then went on with my day.
And for the next several days I continued my shelter-in-place habit of blogging about something new each and every day. And I posted those WWYG?! entries on Twitter and on Facebook, hoping against hope that one day I might strike the national consciousness and become a famous blog boy.(This went on for days.)
And then I finished all of my #HatofSummer videos and I dutifully started posting about those videos on WWYG?! And I gleefully waited for everyone to be captivated and just so, SO enthusiastic about everything. What production values they would say! What imagination they would admit! He's a less technically adept Fincher! He's a budding Alex Garland! Amazing!
But . . . the vote counts just didn't start rolling in.
I rationalized it all by saying things like "They are waiting for all of the videos." Or "It was the weekend, so of course they were busy being outside with their family." Or . . . whatever.
But what I was actually thinking was: "WHY aren't they voting?!" I was also thinking "If I can't get people to get enthusiastic about the #HatofSummer campaign NOW . . . when we are literally trapped inside, with no distracting sports, and EVERYONE on their phones and computers ALL DAY . . . then WHAT exactly??!!"
Truly the darkest days of this whole at-home affair.
And then, today, during my lunch break I realize the terrible truth.
When I set that one post days before as PRIVATE, I didn't realize that all subsequent posts were also being set a PRIVATE. And so only my meager Twitter followers were seeing the daily video posts and (maybe?) casting their votes for my #OfficialHat2020. And thus, this, the greatest #HatofSummer campaign that there ever has been was disadvantaged from the start.
And, Dear Reader, there is no one to blame but myself.
What then, shall we do?
I've reset all of those posts as PUBLIC and I encourage you to watch them.
But if you don't want to go trawling back through the last week of my Facebook feed, I can give you a link to the published videos on the official 2020 #HatofSummer playlist.
All of the hats that are available for voting on are presented here, along with the Teaser video that I first released. In this playlist, you will see my journey through anxiety and descent into semi-madness as the world changes around me. You will see the choices:
Harry Potter and the Sacred Text
Columbus Zoo
NHS YES!
Ireland
(and debuting today) Martin's BBQ Joint
Please enjoy these videos and do share the whole affair with whomever you think needs a distraction in these trying times. I truly do believe we can get lots of people voting on this. And I do want lots of participation.
But more than simply video watching, nothing matters if you don't also vote. And to do that you must go cast as many votes as you can stomach on my Google Voting Form. (Use this link to go and cast your vote: https://forms.gle/tZSddEg5A7D3X67J9).
The voting will be up and available for many weeks. And I will be posting subsequent update videos in the coming weeks to give you progress updates and to encourage further voting. Please take a moment each and every day to push your hat to the top of the list. I believe in you and I want YOUR hat to win.
Thanks for putting up with my incompetence and you'll be hearing more about this in the future.
Last night Governor DeWine (Ohio-R) announced that he was going to postpone the primary elections that are scheduled for today. He did this based on the continuing advice of the head of the Ohio Health Department and the people that have been guiding his actions during the COVID-19 outbreak.
Ohio has gotten praise, at least what I have seen, for its aggressive actions to fight the spread of the virus. The governor closed schools last week. He closed bars and restaurants yesterday. He's done all that he can to tell people to stay apart, to socially distance, to ride out this initial period to lessen the impact on the health care system.
All of that makes sense.
And YET . . . I'm very disappointed that his actions last night strikes right at the heart of our democracy when we so desperately need to believe that the government is working for us. We definitely are getting mixed messages from Washington D.C. and the Republican ideology of every state for itself may prove to be a real stumbling block as we move through this. I understand that holding the primary votes rubs against the social distance rule. But could not some rules have been set in place. Wouldn't the people who wanted to cast their vote today have been willing to stand in spaced-out lines and move through the voting area slowly? Might it not have played an important role in reinforcing that the nation moves on. That we, its guiding citizens are still making our choice? Couldn't something have been discussed?
I am selfishly happy that Lynda and I went to vote early last Friday on our first work-at-home day. And I'm glad that Sarah pushed herself and her friends to go vote early a few days before us.
There is SO MUCH at stake in this country right now. And the votes cast in the Democratic primary in these short few months between February and June are crucial for citizen engagement, for government legitimacy, and for deciding a better path for our government.
The biggest problem that I am facing is the need for social distancing.
I understand its utility. I understand the goal of flattening the curve of infection and the need to avoid overwhelming the critical health care system.
What worries me is that social distancing cuts off the people that need society. Social distancing works for those privileged enough to have VPN access and laptops. Social distancing works for people who have food and (god help us all) toilet paper. Social distancing works for those with office closure policies and long-term deadlines and money in the bank.
Social distancing is much more challenging for small business owners. Social distancing is very challenging for part-time employees. Social distancing conflicts with the service workers who are restocking grocery store shelves for the rest of us.
Social distancing pulls us apart when we need to be finding ways to lift each other up.
And I don't know how to solve it. And I don't need to solve it for myself. But how can I not exacerbate the problem for others? And how do I balance my desires against the absolutely true unknowns about who is carrying the virus and how do you know when you are sick? And how do we keep each other healthy and not let society slowly ebb away?
I don't have any answers.
I'm just typing my thoughts and feelings out there. It's running through my mind every hour of every day since this all began. (I originally typed the word madness there and then backed off from it because I don't want to seem like the Monster Shouter.)
Of course, that needs to be updated now--given that we must now add Episode VII and Rogue One (Episode III.75?). I won't get into all of the twists and turns THAT MUCH. You can probably plug in the necessary new movies yourself. But I would suggest:
But that isn't really why I'm here today typing this instead of trying to correlate TWE activities to state standards.As I've watched the Star Wars movies recently, in preparation for the release of Rogue One, I've noticed a bothersome trend. Maybe it can be best illustrated by this early concept illustration made during the development of the original Star Wars movie back in the 1970s (now the second in sequence in my revised watch list above).
It's a great picture that really emphasizes the sweeping landscape and alien-ness of Tattoine. You can see Luke with his Landspeeder, surveying what is presumably Mos Eisley from a distance. But it's SUCH a distance. Yes, he does have space binoculars, but WHY does he have to be so far away? Maybe there is much more low-ground glare on account of the two suns? Maybe he doesn't want to get TOO close to such a hive of scum and villainy?
But whatever the case, this (somehow?) established a pattern in the minds of the film-makers that they continued to this day. The habit is parking your space ship waaaaaay too far away from the place you actually traveled all that way (with hyperspace!) to actually get to.i
I believe this is a scene from Ep. II: Attack of the Clones (judging by the billowy cloak that I think grown-up/pre-evil padawan Anakin wore). But this might not be the correct Naboo ship that Amidala used in Ep. II? I think it was a smaller sleeker version . . . or what that one used in Ep. III: Revenge of the Sith?
This is a scene from the beginning of Ep. VII: The Force Awakens. It doesn't exactly capture Rey parking her bike on the edges of the Jakku trading settlement--which I know happened in the film. But I couldn't find that screenshot. Hopefully this image will remind you?
This is a scene which I believe is near the beginning of Rogue One. Since this movie is very new, I definitely could not get the screenshot I wanted of Director Crennik (the dude with the white cape) landing his ship on the planet where young Jyn lives. I can't say much more without verging into spoiler territory--they steal plans that help the Rebel Alliance blow up the Death Star!--but trust me when I tell you that the dude with the white cape parks his tri-winged Imperial issue transport many hundreds of yards away from the lone settlement out in the middle of nowhere and then has to trudge through the blasted out black sand/rock terrain to finally achieve the face-to-face with the guy he's flown there to intimidate. (All that walking has got to be murder of the trailing hem of his impressive cape, no?)
Are you getting my point?
IS there even a point?
Is there some sort of unwritten (or possibly Imperially-written) rule that prevents ion-engine backwash within 100 yards of some downtrodden citizen's backyard? Or have the cinematographers simply fallen in love with the sweeping vistas and thrown all common sense out like a Star Destroyer jettisons its trash before hitting the hyperdrive?
This morning I was running errands: taking some empty grocery bags back to the store, dropping off a suit for dry cleaning, taking Grace to a friends house.
And while I was at the grocery store, I noticed a Wild Birds Unlimited store in the same shopping complex. And I decided to give it a try because . . . well, let me back up for a second . . .
. . . so, I decided to patronize (give my patronage?) to a local store here in Westerville and buy some new bird feeders that I can hand off of the now useless hooks on the now unused wooden structure in the backyard. What could be hard, I thought? Just go in. Find some reasonably priced bird feeders and some seed and Bob's your uncle. Easy peasy.
Well, I underestimated the fervor of the local birding community, let me tell you.
As I was looking at bird feeders and calculating in my head how much I should buy ($45 for a single bird feeder seemed a bit much, I thought.) a store employee asked if I needed any help. And since I didn't think that I did, I said "No thanks. I'm just looking for bird feeders for my backyard."
Ain't no shade like the shade thrown at the Wild Birds Unlimited store.
You best know your shit when you step thru that door.
And so she goes on to explain to me that there are different kids of bird feeders for different kinds of birds, dummy. And what you're holding now is for thistle seeds which are good for finches. And also this one here is for upside-down perching and feeding, which is particularly good for goldfinches, don't you know? The larger mesh items are for peanut food and a different kind of bird all together. And what are you looking for?
Well, confronted with all this information, I didn't want to expose myself as a complete and utter bird-watching noob. So I just mumbled something that was polite and didn't say that I was just looking for some cheap-ass bird feeders and I'm not opening a new branch of the Audubon society or anything. I got my bird feeders, suitable for upside-down perching goldfinches and some wild-bird seed mix that worked.
At the counter, the manager--maybe?--asked me if I wanted to sign up for their information newsletter and because sometimes they host events and walks. But, aforementioned--I'm just a dude that is now regretting not picking up a bird feeder in the pet aisle of the grocery store--where no one cares what I'm doing or even knows if I'm doing it right or anything like that. Oh, such sweet, sweet consumer anonymity!
Anyhow, I politely declined and was paying and getting ready to leave when the cherry on top of this shaming sundae was delicately set on top.
If you come at a bird store employee . . . you best not miss. #BlogPostToCome#fb
There was a woman checking out beside me. And she had some big bag of something called "No Mess" (?!!) that the manager had to help carry to her vehicle. And so the woman who had been grilling me over by the bird feeders switched with the manager to finish my transaction. She saw that I had politely declined to sign up for their walking tours and asked again--with a twinge of confusion--if I wanted to sign up. And, like St. Peter, I politely declined for a third time.
But instead of a cock crowing in the distance, the No Mess lady checking out beside me took a look at my purchases and said--with a strong bit of incredulity and laughter--"You must not have many birds! Look at that small bag of seed you're buying!"
I smiled it off, but with the growing shame that I was not worthy of buying bird supplies in their store. If I'm not ready to haul off enough No Mess (?!?) seed to rival the lorakeets in the Columbus Zoo, then why was I there? This lady was going to build some sort of wildlife preserve in her backyard. So, what was my plan exactly? Hanging some random upside-down perching goldfinch lures on an abandoned swing set?
Credit: me; Our office good-luck totem gets some Major League-related snark during the stress of Texas review week.
Traditionally, the end of June through most of July is known as Party Month around the Martin house. We begin with Grace's birthday, slide through Lynda's birthday, our anniversary, and into Sarah's birthday. It's a busy time filled with plans, gifts, and all that stuff there.
This year's version was made more intriguing by the additional fun of a big family visit by the Thompsons in Georgia (both parents and brother-in-laws family). And when we have family visits, we go all out and do stuff that we never both to do for ourselves when we are alone.
So we went to Zoombezi Bay. We went to a Clippers baseball game. We went to COSI. We went swimming. We hardly ever stayed still except at night. And we ran our visitors ragged probably, driving them here and there and everywhich way to show of the city and find exciting ways to have a good time. (There is probably a reason why vacations only come around once a year, as they can certainly tire you out.) But everyone said that had a good time and politeness abounded--as it always must when the house gets more crowded with people. But it is good for us to stretch ourselves and shake off the routine and appreciate the many things we have and enjoy--even if we don't really stop to enjoy them as much as we might.
Oh, and did I mention that the run up to Party Month was also "enhanced" by a complete overhaul/remodel of our kitchen? Which we desperately wanted to get done before all the company arrived . . . and which is mostly did. (There are still some wall painting items that are needed to be finished and some other minor bits like that . . . but at least all the cabinets were hung and the floor was replaced and the backsplash and molding was fit and the water was turned on.)
So . . . after all of THAT the normal Party Month festivities got into gear. Grace's 11th birthday was centered around the movie How to Train Your Dragon 2, which we all enjoyed and agreed to be a much better movie-centering party than the LAST time (when Sarah wanted to see the terrible Avatar: The Last Airbender movie). Sadly, Grace did not get a letter to Hogwarts. But there is still hope that Hannah will get one in five more years.
Lynda and I combined the celebration of her birthday and our 19th anniversary into one nice date. And we really had a good time relaxing together and reminding ourselves of our abundant blessings.
Up next is Sarah's birthday . . . which is still a few weeks away. But interposed within the fun of Party Month, I've faced my own Work Week of Hell as my textbook project rubber hits the road of Texas review and evaluation. (In fact, I'm writing this post at the office at 11:30 pm while I want to button up the last few changes to my response document that goes back to the Texas Education Association review panel.)
This project has had its fits and starts, to be sure but if we can get past this major approval hurdle tonight and tomorrow, then a huge roadblock is removed and the possibility of success becomes that much more possible. I surely hope so, as the team has put up with a lot to get the program this far.
But, looking back on it, I'm proud of how I eventually found ways to work my way through the problems and (hopefully) set a course that will navigate me through the next few days of issues and come out happily on the other side with satisfaction.
Soon, today will just be another grey area in the spotted mosaic of this project. From 50,000 feet, who will be able to identify one crisis from another? Who will care to remember WHAT was causing WHOM to be upset about WHY? Just finish and move on.
I'm like a cubicle shark . . . always moving . . .
But it's still frustrating because all of that crisis work today prevented me from doing OTHER work. And I just don't have the mental energy to do more work tonight.
But I think fate has provided a (sort of) answer. Sarah is leaving for her school trip to WDC tomorrow and I will need to drop her and her luggage off at the school by 6:15. So why not justify the lack of work tonight (when I'm mentally fed up) by pushing it off until tomorrow morning when I can get into the office even earlier than usual and then only be physically exhausted?
Yes.
This is how we do it.
***
Honestly, I want to be talking about THIS . . .
Click for past playlist videos
. . . but I can't because the friggin' cord that connects my video camera to my laptop's USB port is no where to be found and I can't find the right sort of replacement on the internet and it is delaying me from getting ideas executed and I just don't want to wait and I'm trying to be creating and it is making me unhappy and grrrr.
In any case, what DOES seem clear is that there is no clear date of artificial intelligence from those stupid boxes on our desks or from the rectangles in our pockets.
Why should we be afraid of them when they don't operate the same way from day-to-day? We ask a laptop to connect to a TV for two days in a row and everything is fine. But on the third day, for no discernible reason at all, it won't do it? And when you do a Internet search to resolve the problem, you dig yourself into a rabbit's warren of increasingly sad pleas and circular "answer" to the problem. (Heck, some of the suggested fixes are really nothing more than modern-day incantations of mystical rituals that a Druid would have nodded in recognition of.
And why do we continue to hand over so much of out decision-making to them? Why are we still asking them to perform miracles for us every day when we can't predict if they will instead act like bullshit from one moment to the next?
So, go ahead murderous computers! Do your worst against me! Just try and kill me. Based on your current reliability, I've got a LOOOONG life ahead of me.
