Like Walking Into an Ebola Ward and Asking for a Transfusion. . .

It seems as though many people nowadays who jump on the Internet do so with the computer equivalent of logging onto a virtual ebola ward and just begging–nay! demanding!–the electronic version of a transfusion of ebola. They’re running onto the “information superhighway” without looking out for trouble, and so they are just asking for it.

No, seriously!

Consider: one’s data, identity, finances–all are just ripe for the picking by nefarious means if one just blithely wanders about the Interwebs, naively, thoughtlessly downloading and installing crap, visiting questionable sites or just blindly clicking links or executing attachments in emails. Heck, the crap one might thoughtlessly install (toolbars, webapps, browser extensions BHOs, whatever) might not itself be malicious, but many purveyors of such DGARA about your security or privacy and leave wide open holes for malware–or they have a crappy, wide open site that’s just begging for malware injections to mug their site visitors.

And many people just blindly, naively, thoughtlessly wander into these highly infectious plague wards and then wonder how they “got infected”.

They infected themselves by means of their own stupidity.

People who would NEVER think of just wandering out into a busy highway, who would stop, look BOTH WAYS and listen before crossing a residential street just wander into traffic on the Internet, cruise around looking for virtual streetwalkers to get computer “STDs” from and go hunting up electronic ebola wards to get a transfusion for their computer(s).

Just don’t be one of those guys, mmmK? πŸ™‚

They’re Killin’ Me. . .

No, not my dogs (although my feet to hurt a bit. . . but then I’m getting old, so what do you expect? :-)) People who are fairly literate who nevertheless allow Crap Media (A/K/A the Mass MEdia Podpeople Hivemind, badly-edited poplit, etc.) have far, far too much influence over their own vocabularies–spoken and written.

OK, so I engage in quite a bit of “pop-speak” from time to time here. That’s fine. It’s casual writing, and I’m not getting paid to do it. But even “casual” writing should be correct if someone’s getting paid for the words they casually and, all to often–unfortunately–carelessly toss out.

Several times, recently, I’ve seen such abortions as a noun (such as “workout” or “logout”) used as verbs (“work out” or “log out”). Enough lazy, subliterate, immoral idiots do this and you can bet such things will become widely used enough to blur and then eliminate the useful distinctions between noun and verb forms in print.

It’s appalling. . . and as I said, immoral for people to take money to do a job and then do it badly. It’s theft. (It’s also a crime against the English language, but I don’t know of any statute that would apply. *sigh*)


N.B. I do cut a few professionals some slack in certain circumstances. I read a lot of Advance Reader Copies of books, books that are in the penultimate stage of editing before publication. I expect a few errors in such books, because ARCs usually serve as final proofing copies that will see another read-through before actual publication. So I cut those authors/editors some slack if only a few problems crop up. Example: last night I read a (~400-page) ARC that had three glaring errors: “then”for “than” three times. It’s a form of mental typo that sometimes crops up in even the most literate writers’ works, and is almost always caught at one stage or another of the proofreading/editing of a book issued from a good publisher and apparently almost NEVER caught, in my experience, by “Indie” (self-pub) authors whose proofreaders are of an uneven nature. Unfortunately, traditional publishers are more and more drawing authorial, proofreading and editing staff from a pool of college grads who are themselves essentially illiterate, so some ARCs from trad-pubs are littered with all sorts of crap. . . that makes it into the final, published, books. *sigh*

“Rubber Bumper” Society Encourages Stupidity

The way so many people have been reared in virtual bubbles in the last few decades has led to all too many people wandering through life apparently feeling invincible.

Not so with me. I was a slow learner, but I have–slowly–learned both prudence (well, in matters of physical safety) and gained confidence in my genuine abilities through a process of exploration of things that weren’t always. . . safe.

No room here to detail all my childhood adventures and play, but they were more risky than most kids seem to experience nowadays (No, I’ll not explain the rules of Dodge-Rock. I’ll just say that we didn’t have nice soft balls to play with and leave it at that. . . :-)) By the time I reached junior high, I had had a major gash in my left foot dealt with by stitches, a bigger HOLE in my left hand, suffered unconsciousness from a fall (only about 20′ but not bad for a seven-year-old kid), broken arm (left again. . . Hmm. . . I see a pattern), broken leg (AGAIN, left, but other assorted head and limb injuries slightly disguised the trend :-)) and had twice been hit by cars while (properly!) riding my bicycle (the worst injuries came when the driver had to actually LEAVE THE ROADWAY to bash me off a shoulder *heh*). Later, in college, as a more wary bike rider, I was still struck twice by daydreaming drivers, although I saw them coming and was almost able to avoid them, resulting in only minor injuries–bruising and whatnot.

That I am not comfortable with heights probably helped me I avoid falls while free climbing during my college years. BY “free climbing” here, I mean I was wearing street clothes every time. Sneakers, jeans, etc. No falls, because b y that time I had learned some of my limits and when to push them, and practiced what safety measures I could.

Now, what did I see today that spurred these thoughts? A father pushing a tandem stroller (with the expected two kids) down a narrow street, moving WITH the traffic. I see this a lot around here, though. Folks walking–and often pushing strollers–down a highway that goes through town, a highway that is as narrow as legally allowed and is traveled by a great deal of 18-wheeler (and other) traffic. . . and, from my limited observations (I can’t set up an observation post and man it 24×7), most of the 18-wheel traffic speeds through town and much of it minds the lanes about as carefully as Bill Clinton observed proper behavior in the White House. Just sayin’. It has NO shoulder and NO sidewalk. And yet people walk down the highway assuming they are immune to stupid drivers approaching them from the rear.

The second “street rule” I learned as a kid (the first was the Stop, Look BOTH WAYS, and Listen before crossing ANY street) was “Whenever there is no sidewalk, walk AGAINST traffic”–so you can see what’s coming. It’s common sense that is very, very UNcommon nowadays, from what I see. Nope. Apparently, people just assume they are invincible and DO NOT THINK. (They don’t have to. After all, it’s everyone ELSE’s responsibility to look after THEIR welfare, isn’t it?)

Of course, timidity is another stupid problem fostered by a “rubber bumper” society, but detailing even one example of that would make a too long post even “too longer”. *heh* Just take it as given that I could list many, many other behaviors I witness daily indicating that folks are either too stupid to use ordinary,common sense safety measures or too stupid to take action when nothing dangerous threatens (Common around here: “COME ON! IT SHOULDN’T TAKE 5 MINUTES TO MAKE A SIMPLE RIGHT HAND TURN! Sure, there’s a bar ditch on the right and ya should avoid “ditching” your car, but COME ON! MAKE THE FRIGGIN’ TURN ALREADY!” *heh*).

Scairdy Cats and The Invincibles (Legends in Their Own Minds)–sometimes even in the same persons! It’s enough to drive one to despair. How can our society survive these weenies?

It’s for the children. . .

The Puppy Blender observes,

“Old argument for college: Go to college so you don’t have to be a waitress! New argument for college: Go to college so you have a shot at that waitressing job!”

Yeh, but even with a college degree giving a shot at low-wage service jobs, that just means longer to pay back the exorbitant costs associated with that (almost worthless?) degree. . .

Ah, but go hire another few hundred administrators for whatever level of education. It’s for the children, right?

*sigh* I Just Hate This [Stuff]

Oh, Shiite.

Just had a call from someone whose computer I cleaned a month ago. They have re-infected themselves. Key question: “Are you still using Internet Exploder instead of the browser I installed and configured for you?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to say, “Here’s your sign.”

*gagamaggot*

Why do folks ask me for help and then ignore my counsel and expect things to turn out differently next time? This will be the THIRD time for this guy to have infected himself with THE SAME THING via the SAME VECTOR using the SAME BROWSER while ignoring the practices and tools I installed and counseled him on to prevent such a thing.

Why do they do these things? Self-induced stupidity and “helplessness” I suppose. (I use here a definition of stupidity articulating a stubborn refusal to learn or change one’s self-destructive behaviors. . . when learning is clearly within the individual’s capabilities.)

Balance

I used to read EVERYTHING. No, really. Cereal boxes, soup cans, ACTUAL ASSEMBLY INSTRUCTIONS *heh* (after having assembled whatnot, more often than not :-)).

Fluff or food: it’s really all in how one reads it. I re-read my collection of Shakespeare earlier this year, but I’ve reaped as much from thoughtful, critical reading of poorly-written YA books (informally reviewing ’em for my Wonder Woman, librarian) by reading those with an eye to the Good the Bad and the Ugly–and pondering, based on internal evidence, on the causes of each.

It’s all in how one reads what one reads. I read different material and authors for different reasons. I read an Anne Rice book recently (the first such in years for me) and was caught up more in appreciating the craft of her writing than the story and characters, both of which I disliked greatly. . . and which, having read other books by her, I suspected I might. I read David Weber books, despite my irritation at some of his writing flaws–consistently using certain words in ways that move me to suggest he might do with an Inigo Montoya consultation *cough*, his sometimes excessive wordiness, etc.–not even so much for the plots and characters as for the ethic he presents. I do NOT plan on re-reading Calvin’s “Institutes”. Thank you, no. Good stuff, for the most part, but juuuuust a wee tad on the tedious side for me. πŸ™‚

I do try to hold myself down to a book a day, with some success, but I’m not going to make that a strict rule. Sometimes, it does take me three or so days to read a book, but that’s almost always because I have three to five other books I’m reading during that time as well. Always done that, probably always will. It’s fun to dream mixes of books currently in my read pile. πŸ™‚

Gimme an “Accomplishment” Badge er Sumthin’

*heh*

Finally got around to replacing the master bath sink and faucet today. Not such a much; getting A Round To-it was the hardest part, really. Bummed me a wee tad that I couldn’t see my way to having the time all in one chunk to also rip up the counter and put some tile down that I have set aside for that space, but the new fixtures are still a major improvement over the 35-year-old fixtures that were original to the house. *meh* Finally got around to also installing shut-off valves for that sink’s faucet. Yeh, not a single plumbing fixture had shut-off valves as originally installed. . . and as it was when we purchased the place This is the next-to-last. I’ll pencil in some time to do the toilet in that bathroom in the next few days, and that’ll be the last.

Easy gig. Anyone not dumber than a bag of hammers can do it. (That leaves out most high school and college grads nowadays, of course. *sigh*)

Little by little I’m bringing this house not just up to current code but a wee tad beyond. Feels good. Wonder if I’ll live long enough to finish the work? *heh*


Benefits of being an Olde Pharte with juuuust a wee touch of swagger? While I was in the plumbing hardware section at Lowe’s, no one asked me if I needed any help. Good. Because I didn’t. πŸ˜‰


N.B. Edited out a coupla typos. Left the ones I wanted. *heh*

Cats: Every Single One Is a “WTF?” NOT Waiting to Happen

Cats as pets are. . . strange. Interestingly strange, but strange nonetheless.

Sure, they all seem to want to do some of the same things–play Mighty Hunter and bring their catches in, just to brag ya know? Let you find or make the most comfortable seat in the house. . . so they can steal it. Just lil normal things all of ’em seem to do. But each has its own eccentricity.

One of ours would ALWAYS seek out a way to lay across my shoulders, no matter where. Seriously. Bath tub, walking around, wherever. That was HER place to be. She spent almost a year at my parents’ place because *cough*someone*cough* couldn’t take the competition for space in our bed during our first year of marriage. Not pointing fingers. . . πŸ˜‰

Another one–loved the crust from One Particular Pizza Place soooo much that she was easily trained to come to a whistle.

Another: sought out very tight, closed-in spaces and would on rare occasion simply go wild, seem to become a housebound feral cat. Strange, but when being civilized was a great warm lap-fur massager (LOUD purr).

Another: would invade the bathroom and jump on my shoulders during Throne Room Meditations, but ONLY then.

Current guy: Nice enough fella, but when he wants to play fetch, he’s really, REALLY insistent. And LOUD. Really likes sitting or sleeping on the back of my Wonder Woman’s fav chair (which is OK by her as long as he stays out of her hair *heh*) but will only lay BESIDE me (except when he’s getting in my face DEMANDING ATTENTION–NOW!).

Oh, all of ’em have/have had other quirks and eccentricities, but the one constant is that they’re all different and all. . . cats.

BTW, you know why some folks appreciate dogs but hate cats? Often it’s just because they are manipulative, coercive control freaks. Dogs don’t mind that when done without physical abuse, and even with such abuse they usually forgive and accommodate. Not so cats. Cats are more like normal people in their response to abuse and coercion, only more so. Coercing or manipulating a cat into doing something they do not want to do. . . well, there’s a reason for the expression “herding cats” as an expression describing futility.

Show me someone who likes dogs and hates cats and I’ll start looking for other evidence of sociopathy. Show me someone who hates dogs and likes cats and I’ll look for other signs that they are mentally and emotionally deficient. Show me someone who likes both (and who is liked by both) and I’ll look for further evidence that they might possibly be trusted with the keys to my house.

Well, About Time!

I needed several days in a row of sub-90 degree weather to get some more painting done on the exterior of the house and. . . finally, weather cooperated and a good chunk is done (with much more to do, yet *sigh*). The thing is, i’s been 35 years since I managed a paint brush as high off the ground as this has to be, and I’m not as well-balanced, *cough* graceful *cough* and sure-footed as I was then.

I also don’t have my former youthful sense of invulnerability. *heh*

Plus. . . this time, I have a wall that I can only approach with a ladder from a sloping yard below. So, digging footings every time I move the ladder, wearing a safety harness and using a safety lanyard/rope attached to one of the safety anchors I left on the roof when I re-roofed last summer.

Cumbersome. Slow going. Especially since the paint I’m using has a STRONG warning to NOT THIN, so I MUST use a 3″ paint brush on the siding instead of spraying as I had wanted to do. Oh, well.

Must remember before next bout to take the ibuprofen BEFORE ascending the ladder. *heh* Hands’ll probably work a bit better.

Annnnnd, after this lil chore is finished, it’ll be back to downing and cutting up a few trees that have to go. Firewood, anyone? (It took me a couple of months last year to get someone who needed firewood to haul off a goodly-sized tree I had cut up into ~18″ chunks that still needed to be split. I’m sure if I’d split the wood for ’em it would’ve gone sooner. *heh*)

*sig* I seem to remember being much, much younger last year. . . πŸ˜‰


Of course, since it’s going to rain for the next two or three days, I’ll have some time off from yard work and work on the outside of the house. Love it when a plan comes together. . .

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. πŸ™‚

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.