A lackluster year, I admit. I have a few books in progress, but I'm not likely to cross the finish line with them before January rolls in.
The best for the year are World War II-themed: Anthony Doerr's "All the Light We Cannot See," and Robert Edsel's "Monuments Men." Of the two, Monuments Men is my favorite. I wish they had made the movie of it fit the story from the book a bit better, but the movie is still a good one.
For 2022:
All the Light We Cannot See; by Anthony Doerr. 530 pages.
Aunt Pearl's Family Reunion Book, by James Arrington. 130 pages.
Compleat Ankh-Morpork City Guide, The; by the Discworld Emporium. 128 pages.
Cuckoo's Egg, The; by Cliff Stoll. 500 pages.
Design of Everyday Things, The; by Donald Norman. 257 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Big Shot, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: The Deep End, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Wrecking Ball, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Dogbert's Clues for the Clueless, by Scott Adams. 112 pages.
Girl from Yamhill, A: A Memoir, by Beverly Cleary. 279 pages.
How Will You Measure Your Life, by Clayton Christensen. 41 pages.
Key is Lost, The; by Ida Vos. 272 pages.
Last Continent, The; by Terry Pratchett. 350 pages.
Monuments Men, The; by Robert M. Edsel with Bret Witter. 474 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1960s; by Charles Schulz. 530 pages
Shepherd's Crown, The; by Terry Pratchett. 288 pages.
I was up until almost 1 am putting it together, and still had to finish this morning. It's cleverly built so that the ascent module is accessible by removing the sides of it. I also have an aftermarket LED lighting kit for it, but I didn't have the brain to work on it today. (If you've gotten this particular set and haven't assembled it yet, be aware assembling it while installing the lighting kit is recommended. I did have to go online to find a video to show me where the lights should go, as the instructions provided are technically nonexistent.
They also offer a Saturn V rocket that's more than three feet tall, but that's a bit out of my price range yet.
I have read in the ancillary news and on social media of the many things that were not there at the time of Christ's birth. It may have been a stable. It may have been a cave. It may have been a house, and wherever it was, it's certain there were no animals there. Nor were the Wise Men, who may have come years after his birth, or shepherds, who may or may not have seen the star at all.
These tales are told, they say, due to Christians subverting elements of the pagan holiday, or adornments added through every action from hubris to innocent ignorance. The underlying message in these stories ranges from gentle reconciliation of the Gospels to modern tsk-ing that anyone would believe in such twaddle.
And some are passing around a 3-D rendering of Andre the Giant and chuckling at the idiot Christians who rail against the claim it is what Joseph looked like.
What the stories fail to do - and what the shaming and correcting and eye-rolling cannot undo is to tell me what was there:
Wonderful.
Counsellor.
The Mighty God, the Everlasting Father: the Prince of Peace.
This video, by Benn Jordan who has a lot of interesting things to say about the music industry, seems tangentially related to my post from yesterday. (Caution for those with tender ears: Video contains both bleeped and unbleeped naughty words).
And yes, I'm guiltily watching this video with my adblocker activated. I am scum.
Intervertebral disk disease (IVDD) is a common condition in dachshunds and other small dog breeds. It is caused by a degeneration of the discs that cushion the vertebrae in the spine, which can lead to pain, weakness, and difficulty moving. If left untreated, IVDD can cause paralysis and other serious complications.
The exact cause of IVDD is not fully understood, but it is thought to be a combination of genetic and environmental factors. Dachshunds and other small breeds are more susceptible to IVDD due to their longer spine and shorter legs. Other potential causes of IVDD include trauma, obesity, and improper nutrition. It is important for dachshund owners to keep their dogs at a healthy weight and provide them with a balanced diet to help prevent IVDD and other spinal problems.
The signs of IVDD in dogs can vary depending on the severity of the condition and the individual dog. Common signs of IVDD include:
•Pain or discomfort, especially when the spine is touched or manipulated
•Weakness or difficulty moving
•Loss of coordination or difficulty walking
•Loss of bladder or bowel control
•Loss of sensation in the limbs
•Loss of appetite
•Depression or changes in behavior
If your dog is showing any of these signs, it is important to consult with a veterinarian as soon as possible. Early detection and treatment of IVDD can help prevent complications and improve your dog's quality of life.
IVDD can cause a number of complications, including pain, weakness, and difficulty moving. If left untreated, IVDD can progress and cause paralysis, loss of bladder and bowel control, and other serious complications. In severe cases, IVDD can be life-threatening. It is important to consult with a veterinarian if your dog is showing signs of IVDD and to follow their recommended treatment plan to prevent complications and manage the condition.
Dachshunds and other small breeds are most susceptible to IVDD due to their longer spine and shorter legs. Other dog breeds that are at increased risk for IVDD include Basset Hounds, Beagles, Corgis, and Shih Tzus. However, any dog can develop IVDD, regardless of breed, and it is important to monitor your dog for signs of the condition and to consult with a veterinarian if you have any concerns.
The best way to prevent IVDD in dachshunds is to provide your dog with a balanced diet and maintain a healthy weight. Exercise is also important for maintaining your dachshund's overall health and can help prevent IVDD and other spinal problems. Avoiding activities that put excessive strain on your dachshund's spine, such as jumping or rough play, can also help prevent IVDD. If your dachshund is prone to IVDD or has a history of the condition in their family, it may be helpful to talk to your veterinarian about ways to prevent or manage the disease.
IVDD is a chronic condition that cannot be cured, but it can be managed with appropriate treatment. The goal of treatment for IVDD in dogs is to alleviate pain, prevent complications, and improve your dog's quality of life. In some cases, IVDD may progress to the point where surgery is necessary to remove the damaged disc and alleviate pressure on the spine. Even after surgery, your dog will still be at risk for developing IVDD in the future, and will need to be monitored closely by a veterinarian. With appropriate treatment and management, many dogs with IVDD are able to live long and happy lives.
The three best treatments for IVDD in dogs will depend on the severity of the condition and the individual needs of your dog. It is important to consult with a veterinarian if your dog is showing signs of IVDD, as the condition can progress quickly and can be life-threatening if left untreated. Treatment options for IVDD in dogs may include:
1.Rest and confinement: In the early stages of IVDD, your veterinarian may recommend restricting your dog's activity and keeping them confined to a small space to prevent further damage to the spine.
2.Pain management: Pain medication can be used to help manage your dog's discomfort and improve their quality of life.
3.Surgery: In severe cases of IVDD, surgery may be necessary to remove the damaged disc and alleviate pressure on the spine. This can help prevent paralysis and other complications.
Again, it is important to consult with a veterinarian if your dog is showing signs of IVDD, as the appropriate treatment will depend on the individual needs of your dog.
Acupuncture is a form of alternative medicine that involves inserting thin needles into specific points on the body to stimulate the body's natural healing response. Some people believe that acupuncture can be effective in treating a variety of conditions, including IVDD in dogs. However, there is limited scientific evidence to support the use of acupuncture for IVDD in dogs. It is important to consult with a veterinarian before using acupuncture as a treatment for IVDD or any other condition in your dog. Your veterinarian can help you determine the best course of treatment for your dog's specific needs.
Physical therapy can be an effective treatment for dogs with IVDD. Physical therapy for dogs with IVDD typically involves exercises and activities that help to improve strength, flexibility, and mobility. This can help your dog to maintain or regain function in their spine and limbs, and can improve their overall quality of life. Physical therapy can be used in combination with other treatments, such as medication and surgery, to help manage the symptoms of IVDD. It is important to work closely with a veterinarian and a qualified animal physical therapist to develop a physical therapy plan that is tailored to your dog's individual needs.
The cost of IVDD surgery in dogs will vary depending on the severity of the condition, the type of surgery performed, and other factors. In general, surgery for IVDD in dogs can be quite expensive, with costs ranging from several thousand dollars to over $10,000. It is important to discuss the cost of surgery with your veterinarian and explore all available options before deciding on a course of treatment for your dog. Some veterinarians may offer financing options or payment plans to help make the cost of IVDD surgery more manageable.
If your dog has been diagnosed with IVDD, it is important to work closely with a veterinarian to determine the best course of treatment. In most cases, IVDD can be managed with a combination of rest, medication, and physical therapy. While IVDD can be a serious condition, it does not necessarily mean that your dog needs to be euthanized. Euthanasia should only be considered as a last resort after all other treatment options have been exhausted and your dog is experiencing severe pain and suffering that cannot be relieved. It is important to discuss all of your options with your veterinarian and make a decision that is in the best interests of your dog.
***END***
This is a topic that I've researched quite a bit on my own, just so you know. Partly to provide an example for my English students to read as they write their own essays. Also, because we've had three weenie dogs, and two of them have suffered from IVDD. One dog, unfortunately, we had to have put down, but the second is still alive, and while she walks with a funny gait from time to time, she's still kicking.
I don't remember how long it took me to research the sample essay I wrote, but I'm sure it was several hours. And I had the time to do it. And am an old hand at writing essays. And knew what I wanted to produce from the beginning, so I could easily suss good information from stuff that wouldn't be useful.
The essay above -- just over 1,100 words, granted without citations -- I "wrote" in about twenty minutes, using an open AI engine online.
This is something English departments need to reckon with. Now.
How to do that?
Dunno. But maybe reconsider the traditional essay assignment.
Maybe my fears are overblown. maybe these engines will produce the same content over and over again, and services like Turnitin will begin recognizing it as plagiarized.
But maybe not.
And no, it's not a perfect essay. There are no citations. When I asked this particular engine for experts, or citations, I got this response every time:
I'm sorry, but I am not able to browse the internet or access any expert opinions on this topic. I am a large language model trained by OpenAI and my knowledge is based on the text that I have been trained on. I can provide general information about IVDD in dachshunds, but I cannot cite specific experts or research on the topic.
But we're fools to think there isn't AI out there capable of finding and citing the experts and producing essays that are essentially what are asked for in your standard English class. I've even heard that the AI I'm using is capable of that, just have to figure it out.
I don't know where I'm going with this. Just thinking about it. But it's potential for use in academic fraud is immeasurable.
Yanno, I just want two parts. Two tiny parts, put together not even weighing an ounce. How can anyone justify charging $25 for shipping?
And before you ask, this is their least expensive shipping option. This is not overnight shipping. That option costs $149.
Someone's padding their profits and trying to blame the shippers.
So I did not buy these items. I'll keep looking for them. And there are many sites willing to sell them to me. Accompanied by a similar -- in some cases, higher -- shipping rate.
So I happened to catch the latest episode of Bob's Burgers yesterday -- a rare feat -- and it just might be my favorite "new" Christmas episode in a very long time.
It's one of their shorter episodes, but it packs a simple punch akin to "A Charlie Brown Christmas," in that it quietnly supports a simplified holiday season focusing on family togetherness.
The story concentrates on Bob and Linda having to juggle their presence at three separate Christmas-themed performances:
Gene performing with others in the fourth grade in a xylophone concert at Wagstaff Elementary.
Tina performing with her Thunder Girls troop at the City Hall Plaza.
Louise reading what they suspect is a jokey poem at the city library.
All events occur at 6 pm on the same day, bringing on this exchange between parents:
Bob and Linda [responding to the news that Louise's performance is the same night as the other two]: That's TONIGHT?
Linda: I thought it was tomorrow!
Bob: I only know what she knows!
I feel ya, Bobby. Been there many times.
Mrs. Merkin planned on just winging her students through the performance, but has to have an emergency appendectomy that night. The school brings in a substitute -- the only one who answered the phone -- to help, but she knows nothing about music and has no idea what Mrs. Merkins' plan was in the first place.
Gene has the idea to remove most of the bars from the xylophones, giving the players fewer choices (a simplified holiday season) and they turn in a stellar performance. Tina sacrifices her role as the Christmas Star to race to the library in time to hear Louise deliver a non-jokey poem, with Linda hot on her tail:
What's Around the Tree, by Louise Belcher
I can't see what's around the tree
when I'm pawing through the presents.
But when I sit back and get my present unwrapped,
I look up and I see my parents.
I see and smell my brother,
and that's clearly where the gas is.
And I see my sister with something
that looks like gingerbread on her glasses.
And we don't have gingerbread.
So this is odd.
We made funny ornaments for the tree this year,
And we make funny ornaments sitting here,
Around the tree. So jolly.
Didn't expect to feel this way.
I was focusing on Santa.
But the best presents are sitting here,
and they aren't even wrapped up.
And that is what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.
So I read this [paywall] in the Salt Lake Tribune today, thanks to a student who posted a link to it in a BYUI page on Facebook. (The post has now been removed; whether by the student or administrators of the page, I don't know.)
While I understand that BYUI has the right to screen instructors as it sees fit, I don't necessarily like that neither of these teachers could find out the reason for their dismissal.
In brief: Two online instructors at BYUI were told they had "failed" to earn an ecclesiastic endorsement to teach at the school. Neither of them were told what had led to the failure, leaving only conjecture.
It sounds like at least one of the teachers has been offered a recourse to get the job back, but at this point she's not sure she wants to try.
This is potentially shaky ground. I teach at BYUI and have, shall we say, some unorthodox approaches that might potentially rub someone the wrong way. And while I understand the church's doctrinal stand on homosexuality (which is linked to what these two instructors suspect prompted their dismissal) I have to wonder where the line is drawn. Empathy? Understanding? Tolerance? Where they've not been officially told the reason for their dismissal, I'm not sure what to think.
Don't suspect me of gross unorthodoxy. But still, where is that line drawn? And why keep it a secret? We're told to have our communications be yea, yea; nay, nay. To me, that implies clarity. And it ought to be a two-way street.
Still lots of work to do. My plan for tomorrow is to put sealant on the grout, clean up and re-touch the caulking on the edges, clean the tub, and get the finish plumbing in, thus freeing the shower up for use.
Other things to do include:
- Fix the trim around the base of the cabinet
- Patch a little hole on the ceiling
- Patch plaster on one edge of the tub surround
- Paint.
The painting, of course, should have been done a while ago with only touching-up to do, but that's not how this project worked out. No matter. I'm hoping by the end of the year that this project will be behind me.
That'll open up a few others, including fixing the kitchen ceiling, fixing the kitchen tile, and then getting to work on the basement bathroom.
But toss into that something else: I have to get "my" side of the garage cleaned out so we can park a car there. I don't know how I'm going to do it. I've got three bicycles to stow and nowhere to stow them. I might have to put them in the utility trailer, leastwise until I can get the shed cleaned out. But it's also stuffed with bicycles . . .
We have to get the garage cleaned out because we need to parking space. We now have no fewer than SIX cars soon to be at the Davidson household. Who would have thought that possible? The latest acquisition is for Isaac, a 1998 Ford Escort. Squeezing one more car into the garage will help temporarily, but the cars are piling up like bicycles here. I might have to build a shop(!) in the back yard to store a few more of our treasures, and to get me a workbench area once again. This is the major thing I miss from our house in Sugar City. We didn't have a garage, but the little shop we had in the backyard was perfect for storing bicycles and for doing projects. What we've got here in Ammon is only a pale shadow of what once was.
Yes, certainly First World problems, I know. I'm grateful to God for what we have, even if I don't know where to put it all.
“Art is limitation; the essence of every picture is the frame. If you draw a giraffe, you must draw him with a long neck. If in your bold creative way you hold yourself free to draw a giraffe with a short neck, you will really find that you are not free to draw a giraffe.”
~G.K. Chesterton
I’ve been pondering this quote (source) for a few days now, trying to figure out what exactly Chesterton meant. That’s meant, of course, poking around on the internet to find other idiot interpretations (as compared to my own, to be presented shortly). Most of what I’m seeing chides Chesterton for being orthodox, for misunderstanding the free aspects of creativity, because you can’t, like, limit creativity, man.
I don’t think Chesterton meant what people think he meant.
And I don’t necessarily want to imprint my own thinking on Chesterton’s, lest I end up looking foolish like this.
But I can share a few anecdotes, mostly connected to things I’ve read that could have used some limits.
First, “Little, Big” by John Crowley.
Before I read the book – or at least tried to read it – I was led to believe it was an “epic” of “modern fantasy.” But, as I wrote in my review back in 2014, “I’m 138 pages in, and I’m still waiting for the plot to arrive.”
Crowley needed limitations, and he needed them badly. Maybe there was a tale to be told here, but it got lost in all of the freedom that Crowley expressed. It’s a giraffe that doesn’t look like a giraffe.
Here’s another: Gormenghast. More specifically, “Titus Groan,” by Mervyn Peake.
I liked it better, in 2016, than I did “Little, Big” in 2014, but still: “It's very Dickensian with interesting and extremely dull characters. And there are enough twists in the story to keep things going for the more adventurous reader. But this isn't a great quest, if that's what you like in fantasy. It's as if Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld wrote a great quest novel about all the stuff that happens before the quest starts.”
Again, a giraffe that doesn’t look like a giraffe.
This is important to me because in Doleful Creatures, the book I’m perennially writing, I see the same pitfalls. I haven’t limited myself in any way. I’m creating a giraffe with a short neck, where a long-necked giraffe should be.
Or in other words, I drawed a horsey.
But you know, talking about limitations is so . . . limiting:
I'm not advocating a strict set of limits for everyone and everything. That's foolish. But I think working within constraints and limitations leads to a more focused product, if I can use such a harsh word in the world of "art."
Now Wes Anderson's 2009 "Fantastic Mr. Fox" is . . . a movie I have seen.
If I'm honest, the book it's based on isn't the best of Roald Dahl's work. And though it bragged a quirky director who brought in his corral of quirky big names to voice the critters in this tale, this is a movie that at beginning, middle, and end, was a disappointment.
The story, well, it suffered from Hobbititis before The Hobbit was stretched into three movies. Not too much story to tell, so a lot of embellishment. Weird middle-aged angst. "Family troubles." And so. Many. Speeches. Interrupting the flow of the story. It's like at times they forgot they were making a movie and just wanted to hear George Clooney speak.
And the animation. Stop motion is either excellent or mediocre. This fell into the mediocre camp. The movement seemed stiff and robotic, and the characters' eyes were so dead. The plasticine eyes of Wallace and Gromit have more warmth in them.
Anderson's linear storytelling methods don't lend to this kind of art, I think. Moving left to right, right to left, up or down, that may be Andersen's schtick, but it made the film feel really one-dimensional. With mouth and body movement subpar to even the likes of Rankin/Bass.
Still, it was a movie I'd long been curious to see. And thanks to YouTube Free Movies, I've seen it. It was worth the price.
Today, I suppose they might say Bartleby was a quiet quitter.
Or not. Because quiet quitting is the practice of not being taken advantage of by an employer who expects 80 hours of work a week for 40 hours' worth of pay. What Bartleby does in this story by Herman Melville is basically not want to work and not be bothered if he doesn't have money, or food, or shelter at all.
The story can be found here (ironically or not at bartleby.com).
While the writing is typically stilted, I found this teleplay more accessible:
Not only does it star a very young Greg Brady, it also cuts through Melville's florid descriptions but doesn't leave out the odd mystery behind Bartleby's behavior which opens up a lot of possibilities to discuss free will and the responsibilities and consequences thereof.
And it's tempting to call the story nihlistic, but it's not. Because Bartleby isn't in the clutches of nefarious schemers bent on his destruction, but rather chooses to reject what the vast majority of use recognize: Work is necessary. It can be fulfilling. And charity, when offered, can be accepted. But the free will above all decides how we react, and if we react only with free will, it can be to our own destruction.
An interesting aside: Douglas Adams pokes fun at the story in "Mostly Harmless," Chapter 12, where Arthur Dent settles on the Planet Bartledan where no one really wants to do anything and the protagonist of a local novel inexplicably dies of thirst before the story is finished.
And yes, it does feel like it's all over but the crying. Still left to do:
1. Clean grout joints
2. Caulk edges
3. Grout joints
4. Waterproof grout
5. Install finish plumbing, including replacing the broken tub drain ring (for which I bought a $24 tool at Home Depot).
Then there's the plastering and painting, plus a little electrical work (replacing outlets) and other miscellaneous cleanup and prettifying. But it is a big relief to have the tile done. It took a lot longer to finish than I anticipated it would. I had to cut the last round of tile in below-freezing weather, which was not fun.
But I think it's worth it.
And oh yeah:
6. Repair kitchen ceiling from where water dripped through from the offending bathroom. I'm about 98% I got that leak fixed by repairing the subfloor before I did the floor tile.
Today's voyage down the Internet rabbit hole is inspired in part by a fellow Facebooker's love of Christmas music.
I, too, am a fan. I listen to it year-round, unashamedly.
I offer Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." It was a song written out of grief and despair. Longfellow lost his wife of 18 years when she died after her dress caught fire. On Christmas Day in 1863 he sat with his son who was nursing a bullet wound suffered at the Battle of Mine Run in the American Civil War, he heard nearby church bells pealing.
He picked up his pen, and in those uncertain, dark times, wrote:
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."
The now mostly-forgotten stanzas relating directly to the Civil War add an emotional punch to the poem and song already not lacking in emotional punches.
Adding to Longfellow's despair might have been the result of the battle of Mine Run: Inconsequential to the overall war effort, but a battle in which Union General Edward Johnson lost 550 men, or 10 percent of his fighting strength.
This was my favorite mission apartment. The building it was in was built before Columbus discovered America, and like all of the buildings on that side of the street, was built at the foot of a cliff or hill. You could enter at street level and climb a few flights of stairs to get to our apartment, or from the back you could enter and go down a few flights of stairs.
In Perigueux, the street I lived on was named for Victor Basch, a French politician and president of the Human Rights League of France and an ardent anti-Nazi. He and his wife were killed by Vichy France militia officials in Lyons in 1944.
Maybe this takes the curse off the Vincent d'Indy connection.
He was a native of Toulouse and donated many of his relics from his Pacific visits to the museum in town.
And lest anyone think stateside is devoid of character, the house I grew up in is named for Minnie Gibson Hitt, an early Idaho Falls banker and the first female head of a bank in Idaho.
The house I live in now is on a street named for the match point concept in tennis. In a neighborhood with many tennis-themed street names that has a grand total of one tennis court, private. So that's a little boring. If not ironic.
In the MASH Season 7 episode "Ain't Love Grand," Klinger mentions he grew up at 1215 Michigan Street.
That got me curious to head to Google Maps. Looks like his neighborhood has seen better days.
But that address puts him only 1 1/2 miles northeast of Toledo's Fifth Third Field, home to the Toledo Mud Hens, which still has as a neighbor Packo's at the Park.
It's kind of fun when real life intrudes into fiction.
There's also a Tony Packo's across the river, not far. And apparently they have a lot of MASH memoribilia.
Anyway, my idiot Facebook friends and I had a fun discussion about it. Read if ya wanna.
Meet Dr. Bosca. He's on duty at Washington Hospital in Culver City, California, when Jon from CHiPs is brought in after interacting with a bomb-toting hitchhiker also carrying a fatal rare disease.
He imposes a two-week quarantine on the CHP headquarters. Probably in a smarmy manner.
This, apparently, long after he finished medical school under the partial tutelage of one Victor Frankenstein, whom he tormented with questions about vermicelli.
This is, of course, Danny Goldman, who really makes his mark in Young Frankenstein:
Looks like he died in 2020. Was just a little younger than my mother.
Astronomer: [Mutters grumpily, puts on slippers, stumbles through the darkness, mumbles and mutters through endless spiraling corridors as the alarm continues to go off, climbs ladder to telescope, makes many adjustments while continuing to grumble, finally finds evidence of supernovaed star] Hey! You there! Stop with the supernova! [To himself] Stupid space weather.
I have had, let me say, not the most stellar of weeks.
Work presented a constellation of glorious delights, from what appeared to be a simple set of documents to work with turning into a festival of requirement that is yet to be untangled. And I've *not* been busy, because the untangling involves other people who're more occupied with other things.
Free time, ironically, is short. We're as yet untangled from some volunteer positions, meaning nights and most Saturdays are not our own.
I'm supposed to be teaching a class. And putting up tile in a bathroom. And doing a constellation of other little needful things that need to happen before winter sets in in earnest.
And my days are swiss cheesed. No long blocks of time to dedicate to any particular thing, and some of these things take some time for dedication. I thought I had some time last weekend to get a chore done that I was actually looking forward to, but was called into the house five minutes after I'd started it to work on something else that needed to be done.
Then I asked my wife what she would like for Christmas. And got the reply that since the only thing she got from the desire for a recliner on Mother's Day was an invitation to go shopping for one, she held no high hopes for wishes.
(An aside: Would any sane man go shopping for a recliner without taking his wife? What if I get the wrong recliner?)
So I've been peeved most of the day. And kind of spilled my guts to our youngest, when I had to drive to Blackfoot -- leaving my chores undone -- to pick him up from a camping trip and then take him to Iona to help pick apples for yet another coming Saturday's applesaucing. Emotionally, I'm spent.
So I wanted to go to bed. But I grabbed some microwave popcorn first, then headed toward the stairs.
"Before you go upstairs, let me know," my wife said. "But not right now, I'm in the middle of something."
Okay. So I pop my popcorn. Then poke my head in her craft room, where she's grading papers. "I still have a few more to do, and I want to finish them before I start on another project."
Another project. And I can't go to be before it's done.
I don't need another project. I'm tired.
So I go to pout in the study. I do some grading of my own, because it needs to be done and may as well do it. But the peevishness is building. Scouting for Food tomorrow morning. Four hours in the cold. And volunteers are few.
Then the "project" emerges:
It's a tshirt for me. The weenie dog skeleton glows in the dark.
While the elves are the lurking menace in Terry Pratchett's last novel, "The Shepherd's Crown," and while they show up at the end, the real menace in the book is menace itself.
The elves eject their queen. The elves spoil the beer. The elves raid, the elves feint, almost always offscreen, out of sight of the eyes telling the story, but always in the back of the mind of those reading the story.
Much like the Alzheimer's that claimed Terry Pratchett's life shortly after this book was written.
And maybe that's a stretch. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. But I feel like it's a possibility. Pratchett may indeed have written more of this book as it is claimed. But maybe just the presence of the "menace" of the elves -- which we know in a foregone conclusion will be defeated -- represents what Pratchett felt about the Alzheimer's destroying his brain. Maybe he wrote the rote happy ending to this novel of menace knowing such a happy ending wouldn't come in his own life. Pratchett is certainly a clever enough writer to pull this off. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into what happens in the book, paralleling what was happening in his own life at the time.
But it's possible.
And I wonder, what is he thinking now?
Yes, he was an avowed atheist. But even atheists go to heaven when they die. That is my belief. And I wish him no disrespect by writing this. But surely a fantasist of his caliber might welcome the real presence of other realms, other planes of existence, similar to what he wrote of in his novels.
I'm glad the rumored ending, as reported by Neil Gaiman, didn't come to pass. That's too neat of an ending, too rote. Because Esme Weatherwax, of all the characters Pratchett created, would certainly know that death, even an anticipated one, does not arrive on "one's own terms." Whether it comes after a long life of peace and loveliness or after a shorter life of violence and woe, it comes. The roteness of happy endings might have left Pratchett and others cynical about the thought of life after death, but I find weariness in the thought that this life is all there is, whether happy or sad. After we live, we live again on our own terms, but not before. Life after this, that is the flight of fancy we prepare for.
Are any of my friends corporations? Or the kind of random, uh, idiot who is *paying* Facebook to advertise their posts?
Because I just don't see how my adblocker is doing this. Unless Facebook is messing with the algorithm just because, like Sergeant Rizzo, they want their money.
Meanwhile, I'm still on Facebook's naughty list for the next two weeks. Why should I, a known and punished and unreformed miscreant, give a fig that Facebook is upset I'm feebly throttling their advertising power? And from my "friends?" Really?
We know you're *very* excited about the pictures you've taken of two of Jupiter's moons with an Earth-based telescope. We are too. Just don't oversell it. These may be the "clearest yet" photos taken of these particular moons from Earth, but as far as clarity goes, they look like most of the photos I've taken of the Moon with my cell phone camera. Nothing to write home about.
I mean, keep working on the technology. Hopefully, Earth-based photos of distant celestial objects will continue to get better over time. Just don't expect the unwashed masses -- and this is coming from a life-long solar exploration nut who cut pictures of the Voyager encounters with Uranus out of the newspaper and pasted them into his journal and got WAY excited last year when he spotted two or three of Jupiter's moons through the eyepiece of his son's $120 telescope -- to get as excited about your potato photos as you are.
And don't tell me you can see any of Europa's famous surface cracks in this photo. Because all I can really see is pixels.
"The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!" has been on my to-watch movie list since I learned many moons ago that it stars Jonathan Winters, shown here in all his glory giving a briefing to his family, baby included, before he runs off to confront the Red Menace.
While Winters was quite subdued in this film (his role wasn't as big as I imagined) it was worth watching, if only for an exploration of the character actors therein. That and the story is pretty darn funny, what with the mob mentality that easily translates into the new century. And the Russians as bad guys vibe, that still fits, no matter what Barack Obama might have thought.
It was fun seeing Tessie O'Shea in a non-Disney role, but it was this guy who presented the most challenge:
He appeared far earlier in the movie than this (it's a slow burn, I gotta warn ya). But it wasn't until this scene I got to hear him say more than "Muriel?"
But that voice. He's in a scene for a scant ten or fifteen seconds, but that voice. Had to Google. He plays Titus Moody, a stereotypical crusty Yankee, in Fred Allen's old radio show.
Not that I'm old enough to remember the show. But I've heard a few episodes, and the voice I heard in the film reached out through time to grab me.
Obscure character actor of the day: Parker Fennelly. Best known, I suppose, as Pa Kettle from the Ma and Pa Kettle films, but I haven't seen any of those.
Overall, I enjoyed it, though the finale seemed a bit, eh. Maybe beyond belief. Part of me would like to see a modern remake of this one, but I shudder to think of who Hollywood would pick to fill out the ensemble cast.
A friend shared this link about the general inaccessibility of book sales data to the world outside of publishing, and I got to thinking about something related, and something new book authors probably hate me for: Who is tracking sales of used books?
Part of me, anecdotally, believes used book sales ought to be an indicator -- maybe good, maybe not so helpful -- of what current tastes in literature are. Maybe they're too niche? But there are a lot of niche publishers out there selling new niche books, so while maybe used books aren't a huge part of the market, they are part of the market nonetheless.
We're avid readers in our house. And I can guarantee at least 95% of the books we buy every year -- and we do buy northward of 20 books a year -- are used, purchased either online or in local thrift stores.
Is anyone tracking this data, and is it available publicly?
Alibris, for one, is collecting that data. They say on their "The Alibris Story" page:
"Because Alibris naturally collects a great deal of information about book buying and selling, the company came to be able to offer both customers and sellers essential market information. Today, Alibris knows which books sell and at what price. Alibris helps sellers continually update prices and makes sure that business customers get data for hard-to-find and used books that are as good as new."
Is any of that data available publicly? I don't know, and for this blog post, I'll be honest: I'm too lazy to find out. In brief, maybe? But I suspect you'd have to swim through a tangle of contacts and lawyers to find it. This is a company dealing in information and they take our privacy seriously. So I'm guessing not.
I'm not singling out or picking on Alibris here. They are right to be careful with their customers' data, and their practices probably mirror other resellers' as well.
Maybe Goodreads?
Whoah, momma.
While not directly from Goodreads itself (at least in what I can find) there is apparently a metric ton of data out there based on book reviews, interactions, etc., from the site. This is just one site I found, and I haven't had the time to do anything but scan their first page.
The first linked article rightly criticizes publishers' use and public concealment of the data, arguing the data is "conservative" and "racist." With only past sales data driving new acquisitions, they might be giving short shrift to authors who fall outside the norms. I've seen that on a microscopic fashion in anthropomorphic fiction, which I enjoy but seems to be niche these days. Maybe it always was. I don't know.
And lest anyone think that tracking used book sales is negative towards ebook sales, I'm wondering -- can you resell an ebook? Or are they dead ends? I assume they're not to be re-sold. I don't know.
Maybe scanning used book sales data -- or on the part of Goodreads, tracking what books as a whole are popular, not just the new popular books -- might be helpful. Or at least cast a beam of light into an otherwise obscure process.
Anyhoo, some interesting things to think about. Eventually.
It was, quite possibly, "The Mouse and a Motorcycle" that caught my interest.
Probably in Mrs. Barrett's third-grade classroom, where I had the best desk in the house -- right next to her collection of books.
I remember that school, Lincoln Elementary, fairly bursting with books. There was a shelf in each classroom. The center of our building -- the school was like a little campus, with two, then three buildings for us to roam in -- was also stuffed with books. The main building, which I was in for the second grade only, housed the library. But everywhere you went, there were books.
But it was Ralph the mouse, making the little "pbbbbbbb" sound has he rode Keith's little motorcycle around, that caught my attention. Of course, like many other Beverly Cleary fans, I soon wandered into other books: Ribsy, the dog with the weird name, and the many tales of Ramona.
I'm revisiting that world, bit by bit, as I read Cleary's memoir, "A Girl from Yamhill," a lucky find at my alternative library -- our local Deseret Industries thrift store. I'm enjoying her story, and recognizing that Clearly modeled the feisty, injustice-seeing Ramona on herself, unashamedly.
In her memoir, she captures attitudes reflected in Ramona: Why do words like mamma and kitty have that extra M or extra T, when clearly one will do? And how dare adults pass judgments on children, calling them too short to be a lilac in the school performance, or passing them out of first grade "on trial" when they couldn't see the obvious, like pillows being hot, just like wood stoves? I seem to recall identifying with Ramona and Cleary's other characters as they caught these adult idiosyncrasies that Just. Weren't. Fair.
From the book:
From a country child who had never known fear, I became a city child consumed by fear. . . An uppity Bluebird [an advanced reader in her first-grade world] in the neighborhood made fun of me for naming my doll Fordson-Lafayette after a Yamhill neighbor's tractor and the town where Grad-grandfather Hawn had settled. Dolls were supposed to have nice names like Alice or Betty. Nobody named a doll after a tractor. When children discovered I still believed in Santa Claus, everyone laughed at me. I had never endured ridicule in Yamhill. When I asked Mother about Santa Claus, she smiled and admitted there was no such being. How was I to know, alone on a farm where I believed so much that Mother told me? I did not mind disillusion in Santa Claus, but I felt that Mother had made me the butt of other children's derision.
Ramona, of course, lived in and squirmed in and tried to understand that world where things adult said weren't always reliable, not out of malice, but out of tradition or necessity or whatever. We should be careful to help our children -- and ourselves, for that matter -- navigate a world where the things we're told aren't always reliable.
So trust, but verify, might be Ramona's credo. And it's wonderful to peek into what made her world as I read this book.
Reading further: A young Beverly hears her parents' after-bedtime, whispered and urgent conversations about money and not having enough -- another theme repeated in the Ramona Quimby books.
Cleary, like Charles Schulz of her same era and Richard Thompson or our current era, really understands and can communicate the youngster zeitgeist like no others.
I was pretty excited Sept. 20 when the tile for our shower stall arrived.
I'll be even more excited when I can finally start putting it up.
I took a tile up to the bathroom last weekend to begin strategizing and marking tiles for cut, but I could quickly see the bodge job I'd done on the cement board wasn't going to work. Parts of it were really mushy. And I blame myself. When I put the board up earlier, I made the mistake of buying the thinner board and thought I could fix it by just putting another layer of board over the first. But it was so soft and yielding in places I decided I'd be re-doing the tile job if I put tile over that mess. So I took it down. And then remembered in one wall I have a gap in the studs of 21 inches -- lending another soft spot to the wall. So I just finished putting a ladder in the wall to fill in some of that gap and give me some sturdy surfaces to nail to. I'm almost caught up to where I was a few weeks ago, but I'm feeling a lot better about the foundation I'm laying for what's to come. If the foundation is solid, the finish will last a lot longer. Wonder where I've heard that before.
I'll admit I haven't been all that keen on this project. I really had to kick myself in the butt to get done this weekend what I have done, but I'm feeling better about things now.
Let the truth be known I've been banned from Facebook for 24 hours for suggesting I should burn my own shed down rather than clean it.
When will Facebook's bots learn to read context? And when will Facebook ever say, "Oh, our bad," if in their "review" they find their bot was in error? This won't happen because no one is reviewing what the bots are doing. Not a single person. Never seen it before, so when they say my opinion on the matter will make a difference to their bots, I have to laugh and call them liars. Because that's what they are.
I'm so grateful Facebook is protecting the world from minor jokes as content inciting violence while at the same time they're being sued for not protecting actual people from actual violence that led to a lot of people being dead.
My shed, a plastic hovel filled mostly with bicycles no one is using, has more influence on Facebook than I do.
Work anxiety tends to manifest in my dreams, which manifest in the same way: I'm back working at the newspaper, a sham of a worker, hiding in the bureaucracy yet still hoping to get paid.
Last night's dream was kind of a gut punch, though. I was at my desk, located in a spot about big enough for a filing cabinet next to the bathrooms that were seeing a lot of activity. A bevy of schoolchildren arrived as I was sneaking out of the door with blankets they had made, and wanted to be featured in the newspaper. I turned around to go back into the building to grab a camera and the building had disappeared. As the children milled excitedly on the sidewalk, using their blankets as capes and parachutes and such, I nervously scanned the buildings but could not find the newspaper.
End of dream.
It woke me up and I lay there in the dark, pondering the location of the building. Wasn't until a few hours later I realized I'd emerged on a different street, but I can't discount the building just up an disappearing on me once I found my way out.
I don't know what any of this means, but I'm glad to have a weekend coming up that might help me relax a bit.
Rumpole: [In his mind] "Rule Britannia, Hilda rules the waves . . ."
I've loved Thames Television's "Rumpole of the Bailey" since I watched the show with my Dad many moons ago. The tales are an education of character-driven storytelling. Part of Rumpole's schtick is to refer to his wife as "She Who Must Be Obeyed," and in his head and occasionally in his action he treats her as a domineering battle-axe.
This little scene, however, paints their relationship in an entirely different light, perhaps bringing back the romance and twinkle he felt when they first met.
Anyway, it's the kind of stuff you notice when you are striving to develop better characters and are watching old shows for inspiration.
In English class, you should be learning proper usage and grammar.
I say *should* because, in the case of the Change Essay, we're kind of teaching you that run-on sentences are acceptable.
I mean, look at the template we offer you:
At first, ________________, but then after _________ I thought ______________ and now ____________.
I mean, that's *begging* for a long sentence that will in some cases cause you to pass out because you've run out of oxygen before you get to the end of it.
While this is a good way to help you see the structure of the essay, it's not necessarily the best way to write your thesis statement. So I'd suggest breaking it up into smaller, easier-to-say-in-one-breath sentences, kind of like this:
At first, I thought we were supposed to learn proper English in this class. But after I saw the Change Essay template, I wondered what kind of other terrible examples of English I might see in this class. But now, after reading Brother Davidson's "Doing You A Slight Disservice" announcement, I see the template is only an example, not the law.
If you end up with a really long run-on sentence in your essay, I may point it out, but I'm not going to penalize you for it. Yet.
One other thing to consider: You may have been taught that it's completely improper to use the word "I" in an essay. This is not that kind of essay. This is a personal essay, coming from your perspective, so it's perfectly fine to say things like "This is what I experienced," or "This is what I think." The only cardinal sin (and this will sound funny since I just used this phraseology) is overuse of the word "you." You're writing your experience, not mine, so be careful writing things like . . . and now I can't even think of an example. Just be wary. I mean, use it when it's right, but not when it's wrong.
The *proper* use of you:
Maybe I can use this cartoon to explain. In this case, the "yous" are justified because it is in fact the boss who needs to address his behavior here. But generally speaking if we read an essay that's full of "you need to do this" or "you need to do that" we get all tensed up and we stop listening. And this is still a really bad example because in Conference talks we hear a lot of such talk, and we generally agree, "Yup, I need to do better." So it's really confusing. Maybe I shouldn't even have brought it up.
What kind of advice is that, you may ask? (Hey! He's doing it again!) That's just . . . English. It's a weird language that is often more exception than rule. It's meant to be played with, and for the most part this class is a safe place for play. I'll try, if I see play going beyond bounds, to explain why, but if I struggle with an explanation, it's because English is just so English.
ADDENDUM: I'm eavesdropping on my wife, who teaches English at BYUI and the College of Eastern Idaho, and she has this to say about "you" at least in this particular essay (and I'm paraphrasing): This is your essay, it's personal. It's you telling the story. So I should not read "this is what you should feel," or "this is what you should think" and the like. This is you telling the story. Use I.
In relation to an earlier post, I offer the following:
[Hears distant knocking as the hysterics over Randy's eating like a piggy slowly subsides.]
[The Old Man ceremoniously folds his newspaper, places it as if tossing a gauntlet onto his place setting.]
It is here.
[No one races out to the car to help the Old Man unload his Major Award.]
I get the feeling, though, that the tile had been in the special order lot for a while. Though it was wrapped in plastic, the boxes were a bit wet from rain earlier in the week. I don't know if the store tried to contact us, as the primary phone number noted on the order is no longer one I have access to, and the store was unable to correct the number in their system.
Nevertheless, I'm happy the tile are here. Hope to get them put in this coming weekend. I'm ready for that bathroom to be back in action.
"And ye will not have a mind to injure one another, but to live peaceably, and to render to every man according to that which is his due.
"And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws of God, and fight and quarrel one with another, and serve the devil, who is the master of sin, or who is the evil spirit which hath been spoken of by our fathers, he being an enemy to all righteousness.
"But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another.
"And also, ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of your substance unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain, and turn him out to perish."
"When we landed [in Martha's Vineyard] no one was waiting for us," he said. "No one knew we were coming. We realized they had lied to us. But, thankfully, we came upon kindhearted people who have supported us with everything we need."
(Son of an immigrant is posting this. I won't tolerate crap in the comments.)
Yes, immigration is broken in this country. What we need is bipartisan cooperation to make things better. This kind of thing is just a political stunt that does nothing to fix the problem. But we don't want to fix the problem anymore, we just want to own the X, whomever the X may be.
This video, along with another I'll post from the same fellow, is an interesting mini-study on how boosting investment in high-speed internet could be key in solving a lot of the crises we're seeing today, from home affordability to the diminuition of small towns.
A bigger challenge might be changing the expectation that work has to take place at work, rather than in dispersed locations. And, as always, helping those who can't work from home see the benefits for them (and I think there are plenty).
In the second video he says something that made me chuckle: "I love transportation. I love seeing the state spend billions of dollars to build cool new roads and rail for me to ride on and drive. But as a taxpayer, one could ask the question: 'Is the state spending billions of dollars just to subsidize middle managers being able to physically supervise their employees, who could do their job anywhere?'"
And what might the benefits for "essential" workers be?
Many that overlap those who can work from home: Less-crowded roads. Lower house prices. High-speed internet penetration to more and more rural communities. I could go on.
Indy and Harry
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We're heavily into many things at our house, as is the case with many
houses. So here are the fruits of many hours spent with Harry Potter and
Indiana Jone...
Here at the End of All Things
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And another book blog is complete.
Oh, Louis Untermeyer includes a final collection of little bits -- several
pages of insults -- but they're nothing I hav...
Here at the End of All Things
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I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my
favorite Cokesbury Party Blog moments. Holding a contest to see which book
to roast he...
History of Joseph Smith, by His Mother, by Lucy Mack Smith. 354 pages.
History of Pirates, A: Blood and Thunder on the High Seas, by Nigel Cawthorne. 240 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1970s; by Charles Schulz. 490 pages
Star Bird Calypso's Run, by Robert Schultz. 267 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Read in 2024
92 Stories, by James Thurber. 522 pages.
A Rat's Tale, by Tor Seidler. 187 pages.
Blue Lotus, The, by Herge. 62 pages.
Book Thief, The; by Markus Zusack. 571 pages.
Born Standing Up, by Steve Martin. 209 pages.
Captain Bonneville's County, by Edith Haroldsen Lovell. 286 pages.
Case of the Condemned Cat, The; by E. W. Hildick. 138 pages.
Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi. 296 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Big Shot, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Edward R. Murrow and the Birth of Broadcast Journalism, by Bob Edwards. 174 pages.
Exploring Idaho's Past, by Jennie Rawlins. 166 pages.
Forgotten 500, The; by Gregory A. Freeman. 313 pages.
I Must Say: My Life as A Humble Comedy Legend, by Martin Short and David Kamp; 321 pages.
Joachim a des Ennuis, by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
Le petit Nicolas et des Copains, by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
Moon Shot: The Inside Story of America's Race to the Moon, by Alan Shepard and Deke Slayton; 383 pages.
Number Go Up, by Zeke Faux. 280 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade: The 1960s, by Charles Schulz. 530 pages.
Red Rackham's Treasure, by Herge. 62 pages.
Secret of the Unicorn, The; by Herge. 62 pages.
Sonderberg Case, The; by Elie Wiesel. 178 pages.
Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, by David Sedaris. 159 pages.
Stranger, The; by Albert Camus. 155 pages.
Tintin in Tibet, by Herge. 62 pages.
Truckers, by Terry Pratchett. 271 pages.
Vacances du petit Nicolas, Les; by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
World According to Mister Rogers, The; by Fred Rogers. 197 pages.
Ze Page Total: 6,381.
The Best Part
Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi
“Pete,” said Mr. Ordson, “we live in a time of great mistrust. This is not always a bad thing. People should question things. However, in my experience, too much suspicion undermines reason.”
I shook my head, only to remember he couldn’t see me.
“There’s a big difference,” he went on, “between suspicion and paranoia.”
“What’s . . . paranoia?”
“An unreasonable beliefe that you are being persecuted. For example,” Mr. Ordson went on,” I’m willing to guess you’ve even considered me to be the informer. After all, you told me you were going to follow your father. Perhaps I told the FBI.”
Startled, I stared at him. His blank eyes showed nothing. Neither did his expression. It was as if he had his mask on again.
“Have you considered that?” he pushed.
“No,” I said. But his question made me realize how much I’d shared with him. Trusted him. How he’d become my only friend. And he was the only one I hoad told I was going to follow my dad. Maybe he did tell the FBI.
He said, “I hope you get my point.”
Silcence settled around us. Loki looked around, puzzled.
Mr. Ordson must have sensed what I was thinking because he said, “Now, Pete, you don’t really have any qualms about me, do you?”
Yes, perlious times then. Who to trust? And perlious times now, with paranoia running even deeper than during the Red Scare . . .
