What does a participant in the Paralympics have to do to get in the disabled list?
*smh* Stop Trying to Seem “Smart”
Irritating. A writer whose text I usually enjoy and often glean lil bits of useful info from (concerning an amateur, casual perusal of a lit sub genre revealing characteristics of a limited demographic. . . which I have found useful in communicating with some 20-somethings) regularly misuses a BrE expression that has leaked into a broader sphere: locum, as an abbreviated form of “locum tenens.”
The term actually refers to “a person who temporarily fulfills the duties of another. . .” “A locum, or locum tenens, is a person who temporarily fulfills the duties of another; the term is especially used for physicians or clergy.” (these defs per just about every web reference there is. *heh*) Unfortunately, misusing the term to indicate “location, place” reveals much more about the writer’s literacy (and perhaps about the communication standards within the writer’s intended readership – a demographic I do not fit *heh*) than may be intended.
Eprep Is Not a “One and Done” Thing.
It’s constant, ongoing.
Setting up a new “ADC” (All Day Carry) system to supplement my regular EDC bag. It involves adding a “dooty” (nah, NOT “duty”) belt hanging from my regular belt, and various tools and equipment attached to that via keychains (actually leather loops w/d-ring connectors on each end) to enable draping most things into my front pockets. It’s comfortable and handy so far, but I still have yet to add a multi-tool (though I doubt I’ll need to have much of one for All Day Carry, since I have a really good one in my EDC bag). Glad I have some baggy pockets. . .
Next to be added: an easily-detachable IFAK for small of back wear on “dooty” belt.
Setting Up a New Phone
Not one of my favorite things.
My Wonder Woman bought me a new phone because [don’t ask *heh*]. Good Sharkey! The thing is more like a “phablet” than it is like a phone! Heck, reading a book in the Amazon Android Kindle app is nearly as slick and easy as reading one on my lil Paperwhite. The total screen real estate is not all that far off between them. *smh*
But still, how many times in one day does a brand new phone need to update the OS and apps? And what is with all the crapware? And though importation of my contacts went smoothly, I apparently have to reconstruct my filters. Maybe it’s time to look into a whitelist/blacklist app…
Things I Do Not Understand #3,286,157
3,286,157. Why a company brags in a TV ad about being “cheesy people.” (Urm, did I hear that right? *heh*)
Tepezza® Woulda RUINED Marty Fedlman’s Career!
Just sayin’.
Always Give Yourself an Edge
Ya know, having only ONE knife on my person just doesn’t cut it for me. Stay sharp, friends.
Outright violation of inherent, inalienable rights? Yes.
But do note: this is nothing new, really. *sigh* Doncha know, constitutional “protections” of rights are merely suggestions? And with the Great Toilet Paper Panic of 2020, now that the Constitution is now seen as simply a convenient substitute for TP by governments throughout the land, such quaint, outmoded ideas as “inherent rights” are simply to be dispensed with for convenience’s sake. This is nothing new, though. After all, when Newt Gingrich–that *cough* great defender of the Constitution *cough*–was reportedly asked a couple of decades ago whence the constitutional authority for the so-called “war on drugs” since the only constitutionally-authorized ban on the manufacture, import, distribution, sale and use of _A_ drug (alcohol–Volstead Act) had been mooted by the repeal of the 18th Amendment, Gingrich is reported to have replied simply, “It’s different now.”
Yep. The difference is that the Constitution is viewed as either a document to deliberately twist into saying what it does not (lies, damned lies, and political lies) or as TP with which to wipe one’s lips clean of fecal matter.
A Classic Post from 2007
Ifonly more people understood Johnny English, perhaps the West, and particularly the U.S.–who cares about France anymore?–could survive the onslaught of leftists (of darned near all stripe), Muzzies, Greens, Aztlan invaders and other barbarians (see your daily Mass MEdia Podpeople for examples: whatever *cough* “the Mother Ship orbiting Uranus” *cough* has approved for plaudits you can count on being bad for civilization).
But if the message of that marvelous film, Johnny English, were properly grasped, perhaps the End of the West could be averted. I’ll leave you with these priceless gems of wisdom to get you started:
A good agent doesn’t need gadgets. The only gadgets I’ve ever needed are a sharp eye, sensitive hearing and a whole bunch of bigger brains.
As far as I’m concerned, the only thing the French should be allowed to host is an invasion.
All right, so I was wrong about the Archbishop’s bottom.
The Continuing Saga of Catrina
Well, arose yesterday A.M. to discover that my Wonder Woman’s cat was apparently nowhere to be found. ALWAYS comes running when food’s put out, but. . . nope. *sigh* Wondered if she had scooted out when one of us had let the dog out, sometime after the last time she had poked her head out in the afternoon the day before.
So, set out the live trap again.
Late yesterday afternoon, she finally came crying at the basement door, of all places–not a place she has ever been known to go before, Who let her down there? Mystery. Aywho, back and sassy. But. . .
I remembered this A.M. that I’d set the live trap out, so went outside under the deck to. . . free the trapped opossum. Yep. Not exactly happy about it (lotsa hissing, as per opossum norm), but happy to be released. Ran off, climbed a tree, and then just sat there glaring at me. Good ‘possum. Gad he/she’s around.
Selling the live trap. Yeh, if Catrina ges out again, it’s on her.
Aside: gave Catrina a bath with a therapeutic shampoo for some hotspots she’s developed, and she now lives in our bathroom. New covered litter box, juuuuusst for her alone. Towel on a shelf where she has decided to sleep/perch–now (she had started sleeping in the liter box!)/ “Sensitive skin & stomach” special food rounds out her opulent confinement. . . and “torture chamber.” (Baths, you know. *heh*) Well, atleast she is sheltered from coming into contact with the fleas we canNOT seem to completely eradicate from Jaxson, our oldest cat (~18 years. Strangely, our lil “rescue kitty”–Pixel–seems immune to fleas–no, seriously! I didn’t get her treated one cycle–long story–and she remained free from them throughout, though I did eventually discover the extra ampule of “flea bane” and realize what had happened. She’s still kinda standoffish toward the other animals, though.).