Leaving a Legacy

“Die, my dear? Why, that’s the last thing I’ll do!” ~ Groucho Marx.

Well, even in this life, I don’t plan on dying being the last thing I “do.” I plan to rig the “urn” (a coffee can, of course) designated for my cremains to prank the person who opens it to dump my ashes in. THAT’S the last thing I’ll do. . . from beyond the “fiery trial.” Well, unless someone in my family spoils the surprise. . . I probably need to have some backup pranks set up, just in case. Maybe I can stretch my “presence” out a few years that way. πŸ˜‰ Kinda leave an active legacy, ya know.

This olde pharte needs to get busy. . .


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Matters of Principle or just Irrational Overconfidence?

I have ceased being shocked at the *cough* “deep thinkers” *cough* who share their “thoughts” in various print and eprint media whose “deep thoughts” are too deep to allow mundane things like spell checkers, and whose “literacy” extends only to what they have heard (and dependably misunderstood) others say.

It’s as though being stuck on a wad of gum at the far lefthand side of the Dunning-Kruger Curve is a matter of idiotic pride for them. Yeh, it’s a principle. #gagamaggot


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Asked and Answered. Move on.

I wear a scanable medalert bracelet with online med info that includes my allergies. Listed FIRST under “allergies” is my serious adverse reaction to being asked the same question more than once. When asked the same question a second (or third or. . . ) time, I tend to answer, “Asked and answered,” and let ’em look it up. I have no patience with lazy, arrogant, insulting asshats with nothing better to do than waste my time.

I answer cops the same way when asked the same question more than once: “Asked and answered. Move on.” (Last time I did so it was the local chief of police. He had illegitimately stopped me for a traffic infraction I had not committed. I don’t take their crap. I declined his offer of a ticket and moved him along. Seriously. Coincidentally, he resigned two weeks later. . . Yeh, seriously.)

I am too old to take crap from anyone. Period.

Forget “civil disobedience.” Such disrespectful behavior from people who think of themselves as authorities calls for less than civil disobedience. Outright disrespect returned for disrespect from people who are NOT one’s “betters.”

But maybe that’s just me. And maybe I should work on that. . . but I doubt I will.

“Men are Expendable”. . .

. . .according to this, but I had a slightly different takeaway from the chart below (of course).

Lists “civilian” jobs but excludes LEOs (whom I count as civilian1, regardless what LEOs WANT to be thought of as). Doesn’t matter. Even if they were included (and even if this were a more or less accurate chart, which I doubt), cops would only rate somewhere around seven or eight on the chart. Not nearly as dangerous as they would have us think.


1 This pretty well sums up my views about cops and their job hazards: No One Cares If You Go Home Safe At The End Of Your Shift. Michael Z. Williamson deals with the issues of police safety very well, but another post of his details why I really DGARA about cop safety. Cops NOT policing themselves to eliminate the incidents detailed there are the reason for my disinterest in their safety. I don’t wish them ill, but neither can I work up a lot of interest in their safety. They’re adults, I assume, and chose the job, AND do not properly police their own ranks, so. . .

War on Poverty? #gagamaggot

This has no particular scriptural inspiration in back of it, but for some reason it occurred to me sometime w/in the last hour or so. So, FWIW,

The so-called “War on Poverty” has, it seems–if the record of the last 50 years is simply invoked with an eye to looking at the data honestly–resulted in more of the same and even more violence mostly isolated in pockets of “War on Poverty”-created micro-societies. So, why not make it a REAL war on poverty by devoting at least some of the wasted “welfare” funds on REAL welfare, and arming all the folks being oppressed by both “gummint bureaucraps” and gangs/thugs in their ghettos? Maybe if we as a society simply ceded the problem to Darwin. . .

πŸ˜‰

The Essence of Good Manners and Polite Behavior

“Your rights end where the other fella’s nose begins.” Conversely, the other fella’s rights end where your nose begins. That is to say, mind your own business, do not infringe on others’ rights and vigorously defend your own.

That does not, BTW, mean one can be excused for standing by while an aggressor assaults the rights of a person just acting innocently within their rights. Rights come with responsibilities (many) and one of them is to NOT merely stand by and watch someone being assaulted or having their rights infringed upon. That does NOT mean that one should automatically escalate to physical violence. Prudence is also one of those responsibilities of exercising one’s rights and duties.

Example, back 40-*mumble* years ago, my college roomie and I lived in a downstairs apartment off campus. It was one of eight apartments in two separate buildings. At one time, we had an upstairs “neighbor” who thought it a good idea to place his stereo speakers directly above our bedroom and crank ’em up to “pound the floor” levels late at night.

That was definitely impinging on our “noses.” We asked politely. We asked more firmly. We appealed to the buildings’ owner.

No joy.

So, one late night, I was awakened by his floor-pounding speakers yet again. I banged back on the ceiling. He took offense, and pounded down the stairs and then on our door. My roommate, who was still awake pulling a late cram session, answered the door to physical and verbal abuse from a guy nearly twice his size. I wandered in wearing my typical sleep wear (nothing), walked up between them and decked the guy. Most authoritatively. While he was trying to regain his breath, I told him to turn his stereo OFF and leave it off at night or he could expect to see me again, and I would NOT be so gentle next time.

He moved out.

Now, I am not a big guy, certainly not as big as the jock (he was on one of the university’s sports teams) asshat, but I do NOT long suffer fools, as it were.

And that is how we all should be, but no. We must meekly accept the Norms of a society that would have us all simply bend over and beg, “Please. May I have another?”

This Is Rich

[With a tip o’ the tam to Ori Pomerantz, via John Lambshead]

Soldier Decapitates ISIS Thug with Spade in Afganistan

This is rich on so many levels. The primary story, sure: prevailing against odds with whatever weapon is to hand: great. But. . .

Calling a spade an “espada,” so to speak, and making it so: really rich.

spade?espada I like the etymology, too: [Gr] spatha? [L] spathan? [Sp] espada, especially since “spade” itself also shares some of those roots (pre-grecian). Using a spade as a [Middle Dutch] “spade” (sword) seems particularly fitting for a British subject, since the House of Hanover has roots in nationalities where “spade” also once meant “sword.”

Then again, root words for “spade” also meant “spoon” or “paddle” at times, in different languages, so “paddling” the ISIS thug to death with a “spoon” also makes me smile.

“Net Neutrality” Advocates Are Either Morons or Liars

Is it wrong to experience a sort of “zloradstvo”1 when evil experiences a setback, no matter how small? Let me introduce the “poster children” for so-called “Net Neutrality.”

Top 10 Internet-censored countries

And if you think that’s an extreme argument, then let me remind you of Lord Acton’s pithy adage, Parkinson’s Law, Pournelle’s Iron Law of Bureaucracy, and the Eight Most Dreaded Words in the English Language:

“I’m from the government. I’m here to help.”

I don’t really want to crack a smile at the puling whines of “net neutrality” advocates, but I just can’t help myself. . . (OK, I could suppress it, but I don’t. πŸ˜‰ )

[“Net Neutrality” is nothing more than a “bureaucrappic” scheme to place a 5,000-pound government thumb on the scale to determine market winners/losers, thus improving the market for. . . graft, and worse. h.t. to Perri Nelson for the clarification that genuine net neutrality is different to the bureaucrappic scheme Title II enabled.]


1Russian. An order of magnitude beyond the German “schadenfreude,” as only Russians can do. . .

My Wonder Woman’s Got Staying Power

She tells me she loves me, and I remind her that it’s not my fault. *heh*

Well, yesterday was. . . different. Our only anniversary celebration was a full-on turkey meal, made here, since we had our Lovely Daughter’s wonderfully-prepared bird yesterday.

When she tells me she loves me (at least daily), I always remind her that it’s not my fault. πŸ™‚