Personal Musings category archive

If your cat won’t sit still, give your catatonic.

Dick Polman looks back at the America John Boehner wants back. A nugget:

Boehner was born in 1949. In the America he grew up in, southern blacks got arrested or beaten if they tried to share a luncheonette counter with whites. If they tried to eat at Lester Maddox’s restaurant in Atlanta, he brandished an axe handle and chased them into the street. Up in New York City, jazz great Miles Davis was beaten on the street with a blackjack by a city cop who saw him escorting a white woman to a taxicab. I am proud that America today is a place where such human rights abuses would be unthinkable.

Read the whole thing and ask yourself, do you want that country back?

I don’t.

I was cutting grass along the highways for the state–funnest summer job I ever had. I hit a drainage ditch that was completely obscured by honeysuckle with the right front wheel and the tractor went over to the right. I hit the dirt and headed into the soybeans on my belly.

Didn’t know I could move so fast on my belly.

My buddy, who was on a Ford, wrapped a chain around the frame and pulled the tractor back upright.

We continued cutting grass.

Decades ago, a John Deere tractor flipped over on Silas Fralin.

At the time his son Franklin Fralin, now 73, was in his early teens and working the family’s farm in Union Hall.

“It broke him all up and a rib went through his lung,” Fralin recalled. “I had to stay there after that. Daddy didn’t have but one lung. He didn’t have much breath.”

The Fralins, like many other row-crop farmers in Franklin County, often relied on the smaller Farmall tractors manufactured by International Harvester.

And Franklin Fralin’s restored 1949 Farmall Cub was among the antique tractors displayed Saturday during the seventh annual Southwest Virginia Antique Farm Days at the Franklin County Recreation Park.

What a great movie.

Simple, straightforward, lots of car crashes.

What more could a guy want in a movie?

Those who consider wind farms to be unsightly have likely never seen an oilfield.

Remember Billy Graham?

Agree or disagree with his theology, he was and is the real deal, a sincere guy who did not use his talents to get rich (though he did okay in an upper middle class sort of way) or found a television empire or sell books.

He evangelized. That was what he did.

He also publicly opposed segregation at a time when most Southerners who did feared to do so publicly, one time even bailing Martin Luther King, Jr., out of jail, and he fought South African apartheid.

He screwed up by tying himself too closely to Nixon and later apologized for that.

During his public career, he was not perfect; none of us are. On balance, he has done much more good than bad. That would be a good epitaph for any of us.

Unlike lots of folks who call themselves “evangelists” and especially those who call themselves “televangelists,” he actually tries to live the values he professes. He did and does so imperfectly, as do we all, but he tried.

That’s more than many can say; many profess values and don’t try to live them and neither apologize when they fail, nor learn from their experiences.

It just does not seem right that Billy Graham is in reruns.

The despicable and hateful demonstrations of the Westboro Baptist Church appall almost everyone (you can google Westboro Baptist; I shan’t link to them).

Through their very name, their existence insults churches, baptists, and even westboros.

Indeed, to those who believe that the central message of Christianity is to “love they neighbor,” Westboro Baptist Church blasphemes. (As someone who was raised Baptist, I must say that Westboro is not affiliated with any respectable or even semi-respectable Baptist convention. One of the embarrassing things of having a Baptist heritage is that any crackpot who wants to set up some nutcase church sticks “Baptist” into its name.)

Nevertheless, saying hateful things is an American right and, in the United States and blasphemy is not illegal (nor should it be).

It is one thing to require that protestors maintain a specified distance from the targets of their protests. The chants and shouts of protesters can sometimes be considered fighting words. I think such separations are often enforced, not because the protesters are actually using “fighting words,” but to emasculate the protest; nevertheless, I believe that the words that the adherents of Westboro Baptist say (rejoicing in the deaths of soldiers), combined with the places where they say them (at the funerals of soldiers), easily qualify those words as fighting words.

God forbid, should it be my son, I should not want their presence to soil his funeral.

As despicable as Westboro Baptist is and as much as I find many of Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli’s positions wrong-headed and even comical, I have to say that I think he got this one right.

There’s a stretch of Shore Drive (US 60) not far from these parts which has seen 10 pedestrian fatalities in the past eight years.

Now the city is lowering the speed limit from 45 to 35 for the stretch in question.

The City Council on Tuesday unanimously instructed staffers to reduce the speed limit on the busy road to 35 mph from 45 mph. The change will affect the four-mile stretch of Shore Drive between Pleasure House Road and North Great Neck Road.

I spent 45 minutes googling (well, actually I was startpaging because Startpage is more secure) for statistics on the causes of pedestrian accidents. I found one link to a study (PDF) regarding the relationship of speed and pedestrian injuries (the faster the vehicle, the more severe the pedestrian injuries; duh.), but mostly the search was overwhelmed by ambulance chasers personal injury attorney websites and safety brochures.

The eastern end of the stretch in question, the most dangerous portion of it, is lined with houses, condos, apartments, eateries, and little shopping centers; most of the accidents have happened late at night and involved persons crossing the road to get to another nightspot or to go home.

The road is four lanes, sometimes increasing to eight at intersections with left and right turn lanes; it’s one of three major roads connecting Norfolk and Virginia Beach and consequently heavily travelled. Even at a crosswalk in daylight, a pedestrian with a green light can take the duration of the green to get across the road. (I watched one just Monday as she was heading toward the beach.)

Crosswalks are few and far between, especially in the most hazardous area, which is also the area most cluttered with shops and eateries. Depending on the starting and end points, using a crosswalk could add as much as 15 or 20 minutes to crossing the road.

I hope that lowering the speed limit helps, though I fear it won’t.

I suspect that visibility, the distance between crosswalks, and the width of the highway has more to do with the accident rate than does the speed limit.

I wish I weren’t so pessimistic, but I would place more more hope in a crosswalk or two with on-demand stoplights.

Please say a prayer for my son, currently on his third tour in a war zone, that he remains and honorer of Memorial Day, not an honoree.

Why are right-wingers so obsessed with sex?

I got tired of his perpetual invocation of the phallus as a diplomatic strategy.

Funny how wingnut diplomacy always involves wanting to beat people up.

When they were teenagers, they were always the ones who squealed off from stop lights. It was a form of compensation.

Philadelphia seems to be the new graveyard of the Atlantic.

First it was the S. S. United States. Now it looks as if the U. S. S. Olympia may be allowed to sink.

Now the Olympia – the last surviving vessel from that 1898 conflict – could face an ignoble end as an artificial reef off Cape May if a new benefactor cannot be found.

The Independence Seaport Museum and the Navy have already checked with officials of New Jersey’s Artificial Reef Program on the possibility of sinking the ship, once a source of national pride.

The museum does not have a stellar history, having served as a playground and piggy bank for an earlier museum president.

I posted some pictures of the Olympia last fall.

I remember touring the Olympia with my younger daughter shortly after I moved to the Philly area in 1983. It is one-of-a-kind and a true historical treasure.

I have never seen an episode of Lost.

Why do I not feel deprived?

Were I to fill up at a BP station (which, admittedly, is unheard of from now on out unless the alternative is stalling on the side of the road), would I find their gas pumps to be more trustworthy than their executives?

With one exception (because he is a friend and exceptionally non-technical), I refuse to post comments at sites that require me to create an account in order to post comments.

I have too damn many accounts to manage already. I refuse to create any more simply so I can shoot my mouth off.

There are ways to deal with spam comments that do not include inconveniencing your readers or giving your site tracking data about me.

If you require me to create a user name and password to help you manage your spam, you show you don’t care about me and I shall return the favor.

Thunderstorms last night.

So I fired up my telephone and read a murder mystery.

I cannot imagine a more useless device than a leaf blower. I can see some marginal use for them in autumn, but rakes still seem to be for sale and don’t use gas, but the idea that no grass clipping should befoul a pavement seems absurd. The existence of the machine has created new, useless, pointless tasks.

I am not alone:

Leaf blowers are now used to blow dirt and debris from one place to another, from driveways to sidewalks, from sidewalks to streets until the wind blows them back again. What’s wrong with this picture?

What I had not realized is that, by kicking up dust, particulates, and those noxious chemicals that Chem-Lawn and its competitors have convinced so many to put on their yards, they also increase pollution. Follow the link for details.

I’ve been there, and I am no fan of “dry heat.”

Give me 100 Fahrenheits and 95% humidity with no danger of dying from dehydration over 120 Fahrenheits and signs that say “Hydrate or Die” any day of the week.

I’ve been to the Grand Canyon (twice) and I’ve rafted south of Glen Canyon (decidedly not white water).

The countryside, especially up north towards Flag, is lovely, but I won’t be going back, not even to change planes at Sky Harbor, where the cops have mountain bikes for patrolling the concourse.

It seems I’m not alone.

A golf course is an over-priced do-it-yourself merry-go-round for persons with too much time on their hands.