Dream Gig

Tour guide for America’s Third World County.

I took some time this a.m. and, persuading Son&Heir to come along, traveled some of the back roads of America’s Third World County. A few high points included going back over a road where I’d cleared out a fallen tree last Friday (was just noodling around, tree was blocking half the road, had me some fun moving it with Archimedes’ help ;-)–just checking to see if any local denizens had claimed the firewood), THE prettiest cemetery in the county and the edges of a nature conservation area.

Noodling around in the “piney woods” byways of America’s Third World County is just such a refreshing experience, methought a gig as a tour guide for the county would be an ideal gig. I mean, how many folks–even those who’ve LIVED here all their lives–know about that lil community cemetery out in the middle of nowhere, tucked into a hillside beside a rarely-graded dirt road? Wrought iron fencing with finials all around, always seemingly freshly mowed, well-kept, and with a neat lil gazebo tucked into one corner: just a lil gem.

And there are all sorts of lil gems all throughout the county–bluffs and caves (few of them well-explored–some apparently never explored!), pastures, woods, creeks and rivers, bridges, low-water crossings, high ridged two-tracks, winding hollows, forested cathedrals, gorgeous homes-hovels-dilapidated and abandoned structures: such variety and more. People groups? Amish, Somali, Hmong, Vietnamese, Latino, South Pacific Islanders, Blacks, Caucasians and more. And even within those groups, it seems that geography molds differences. Real Ozark hillbillies? We got ’em. Salt-of-the-earth farmers and ranchers? We got ’em. End-of-the-word survivalist compounds? We got ’em, too. Party gals and guys? Too many. And on and on and on. And unless the property’s posted with warnings, most of the folks are approachable and pretty darned friendly–and their dogs are too. 🙂

And you can be pretty safe betting they’re also well-armed. And that’s a good thing, IMO, because well-armed folks in America’s Third World County are almost always at the very least polite and helpful. They may want to know why one is approaching their door, but that’s OK, because if one is polite in return, interested in and appreciative of the area, they’ll almost always be a fount of neat information.

Tour Guide, America’s Third World County. It’d be fun.

Give That Writer a Dope Slap

. . . and an enrollment in a remedial English class.

Yeh, yeh, I know it’s six of one and all that, but, in my experience, writers who write the rather awkward, “had woken me up” instead of “had awakened me” also tend to write such abortions as “backseat” (adj) to refer to a “back [SPACE] seat” –a seat (n.) in the back of something–or “backyard” (again, adj.) to refer to a yard (n.) in the back or “back [SPACE] yard”. These aren’t horrendous bobbles, but they are annoying in that they indicate a sloppiness of craft.

The worse annoyance is that by degrading the language–using adjectives in forms readily recognized as adjectives as nouns, replacing an adjective [SPACE] noun they contribute to the destruction of useful distinctions in words. What? Would a writer of “backseat” (used to refer to a back seat) write driverseat or passengerseat? Maybe so. . . *shudder* “Backyard” used as a noun writers: will you also be consistent enough to use “frontyard” and “sideyard” as nouns? Hmm? Yeh, when one puts it in those colors, such usages look as stupid as they are.

Oh, other abortions often flow like Exlax-induced sharts from the hands of such writers, things like first-person narratives recounting past events in a breathless present tense to, I imagine, induce a sense of urgency in thoughtless readers in much the same way newsreaders attempt to convey a freshness and urgency to their banal lies with the same device. *sigh* Of course, given the temporal deficiencies of readers (or watchers) of such drivel, the device may well work, for values of “work” that include giving an idiot a spoon to use in scooping out more of their own prefrontal cortex.

And indeed, it seems to work pretty much that way. But it does get worse. Really. I recently read about 1/4 of the way through a book wherein the author used just about every dumb device, awkward phrase, and misused word he could cram into the thing in his attempt to. . . write a typical “Dan Brown” pseudo-thriller.

Oh, *gagamaggot*

(That said, the writer was failing to be quite as bad as Dan Brown when I bailed, even with his violent assaults on the English language. But that says more about how execrably bad Dan Brown’s writing is than anything else. . . )

But seriously, “had woken him up” for “had awakened him”? How hard is it to write (and think) just a wee tad less awkwardly?


(OK, OK, apparently pretty darned hard if my own writing’s any example, but take note: I’ve not asked you to PAY to read my scribbles, have I? Hmm?)

Yeh, yeh, I know that BECAUSE of illiterate uses by dumbass writers “backyard,” “backseat” and other such words used as nouns is becoming more acceptable to those who just DGARA about useful distinctions in words, the ability of the written word to inculcate rational thought or any number of other positive values. I despise such rotten, destructive persons and their destructive effects on society anyway. So there. *heh*

Let’s Think That Through, Shall We?

Went to Lowe’s to buy another $40 gallon of paint and maybe a new paint sprayer (long story on the old one ;-)). Bought neither one. Did buy a new paint brush, though.

Got home. Rechecked the paint. Glad I held off, because I almost bought another can of trim instead of the color I needed for the walls. Back tomorrow (well, today now that it’s the wee hours) for the right color (and taking the paint can, not just the label from what I thought was the right paint can pasted in my notebook. Yep. I referenced the wrong paint label to the sales clerk. Oops. *heh*).

Still not getting the paint sprayer, because the can label says “Nope. Don’t do it. You’ll be sorrrrrrry!” Or words to that effect. *heh*

I Like a Lil Change-up Now and Then

For a latte-like foam on coffee without the crappy taste of milk in coffee, I just use a whisk in (real, heavy) cream-laced coffee. Foamy, great texture and tastes like COFFEE, not milk with coffee flavoring. The only real difference is, as I said, texture. Makes a nice treat. Oh, heck, add a dash of cinnamon if you’re a certified Olde Pharte. Tastes OK, doesn’t overwhelm the coffee (if you add juuuust a dash) and is supposed to have a beneficial effect on memory. With the proven memory boost coffee gives, it’s probably not needed, but whio knows? Maybe it will help.

What was that? No, I have no idea what I just wrote. I’m shy a cuppa joe or two. . .

Passing thought. . .

I hold teachers–real teachers–in the highest respect. “Educators” (those who are in the “edumacation game” for the ego strokes or the tenure cushion, etc.) notsomuch. I wish I knew more teachers and fewer games players and tenure trackers marking time to retirement.

And, though sadly it would do harm to the 2% who are worth anything at all, I’d be happy to see all pubschool administrators relegated to chain gangs making little rocks out of big ones. At least they could do no harm to society there.

Thatisall.

USPS Changing Its Name?

Is “USPS” beginning to mean, “United States Postal Screw-you”? I mean, hours cut (including, at our local PO, an hour SHUT DOWN in the middle of the day and NOTHING past 10:00 on Saturday), packages “lost” and 1/10 of employees NOT surly, petty tyrants.

In recent weeks/months my Wonder Woman has had a rash of things ordered online, sent but NOT delivered by USPS. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems more and more USPS packages are “going missing” (*cough* stolen by postal workers *cough*) in recent times. . .

Whenever I can I specify either UPS or Fedex delivery. At least that way whatever it is has a chance of getting here in a timely fashion. . . or even just getting here at all.

Hey, USPS! Screw you.

Continue reading “USPS Changing Its Name?”

Check Different Angles Out, First

I occasionally see/hear frustrated people writing/muttering (or louder) about revolution as the solution the “feddle gummint” seems to be pushing its citizens subjects towards.

Better think long and hard on that, is my first council. We’re a loooooong way from needing a “solution” that, urm, revolutionary. Besides, as a “Dwarven Rifleman” (interesting fictional character) observed,

“It may seem a fine thing in song or story to be ankle-deep in the blood of your enemies but in reality it’s slippery, smells bad and is nearly impossible to get out of your socks afterwards.”

Yeh. Think long and hard before electing to pursue a course that would likely ruin every pair of socks you own. . . Just reconsider, mmK?