Another Matchpoint Drive Playlet

[Dad takes the dogs outside, because one is barking pathetically at the back door to be let out and the other one, a geriatric, has yet to produce an adequate poop for the day. So Dad is not merely sitting on the back steps doom scrolling, he decides to finish cleaning out the dead leaves and crabgrass from around the air conditioning unit.]

Emergency backup dog (the barker}: [Sniffs around for ten or so minutes, maybe takes care of business and generally struts around like she owns the back yard, as she always does.]

The geriatric, as yet undepooped dog: [Expresses deep interest in what Dad is doing and noses around in the dead leaves and crabgrass and generally makes a nuisance of herself as she and Dad go for the same pile of dead leaves handful after handful. After five minutes, she locks eyes with Dad, produces one of the stinkiest poops known to mankind about a yard from where he is working, then wanders off to leave Dad inhaling the deadly fumes as in haste he finishes up the last of the leaf-and-grass cleanup and staggers inside to get some fresher air.]

In M.C. Escher's House, Maybe

Potted this on the Facebooks this morning:

The idea, of course, is a good one, at least as long as people remember to put the plates back in the right place.

What I object to is the AI presentation of this scenario.

First of all, it's pretty odd to have a blank plate to cover a box in a wall. Sure, I've got a few in my house, but a junction like this isn't likely to be set up this way -- there should be a switch. Unless this was the result of a remodel, but even then, why not a switch if you're adding new wiring?

But on to the AI.

Look at the baseboard on the floor. Then look at the open box in the wall.

The perspective does not match. Behold:

It's clear the photo with the box was taken straight on, or near enough straight on. The lines for the box don't match the perspective line for the baseboard, which is probably a reason the plate covers the bottom of the box, which is closer to the baseboard.

Also, that hole in the wall is HUGE compared to other elements in the photo. A plate ain't gonna cover that.

I guess if you're hungry for content and engagement, AI is a good way to get people to comment on the slop, and then argue about it. Either way, it's sloppy.

A Plumbing Day

No, I have not finished the bathroom. I may never finish the bathroom. I have lost so much steam on this remodel it's not even funny.

But when I got a call from my wife as she was driving up to a day of training that doing something about the leaking valve in the shower upstairs, I decided, okay, I can at least replace a valve.

Ended up replacing two.

The one upstairs went really smoothly. No hitches at all. But I'd used the valve I had bought months ago to replace the leaky one in the basement.

So I went to a local hardware store to get a new valve.

I tried to install it, but should have known it was going to be trouble when one of the gaskets fell off as I was holding the valve. It put it back in place, greased it up and tried to get it in place, but it jammed. So I pushed and pushed but the stupid thing wouldn't go in all the way.

Getting it out was even worse, and by the time I did I'd torn both gaskets in half.

So I tossed the valve, went to the big box store, bought another valve had had it installed in about five minutes after I got home. Word to the wise: The big box store has the better valves, clearly.

While I had the water turned off, I thought I'd go for a trifecta and replace the faucet in the main floor bathroom, but that proved beyond my patience today.

A real plumber put in hard lines for this one. One of the valves is frozen open. And the honyock used some kind of metal clamps to hold the faucet to the sink and they're rusted and wouldn't budge. So I'll take two out of three . . . 

Now I want to go to bed. I'm pooped.

#IndictBugsBunny

Stolen from Facebook.

In regards to this.

I'm no lawyer, but personally I don't think this'll stick. At best, the meaning of "86" is ambiguous enough they're going to have a really hard time proving any evil intent.

I'd sure like to be able to read the date on this newspaper, but it's just too blurry.

The cartoon itself is from 1943, so some wishful thinking here.

A Little Something for the Clock-Minded Technical Writers

Over the weekend, my wife was winding our grandfather clock when the pendulum came out of the clock in her hands.

Being the intrepid souls that we are, we took the cowl off the top of the clock to take a gander at the innards to see what we could do to remedy the situation.

We quickly determined that a miniscule suspension spring had broken -- it lasted just shy of 50 years, pretty good for a tiny assemblage of plastic and metal.

Luckily, we had a spare spring included with the clock paperwork, so after a bit of trial and error and the use of a few pairs of tweezers, we got the new spring installed. No help to the instructions. We knew where the spring went because we could see a broken bit still in place.

Here's the envelope the spring came in. Good luck with the instructions. Note: the illustration does not match our clock.

But alas, when we connected the pendulum, we could see that the pendulum hanger and rod were now interfering with the chime bars that give grandfather clocks their charm.

I thought, "Well, I'll look online to see if I can find a video to help us out." That after a few glances at the paperwork included with the clock revealed that it was pretty hopeless to look at it for any help.

It's text-heavy. The illustrations are line drawings, a bit smudged, and upon further examination, were for clocks and equipment that didn't match our clock's innards.

Another example, on pendulum hanging. It not only doesn't match our clock, but it doesn't match the illustration on the spring envelope.

So the typical one-size-fits-all documentation we lament today was clearly alive and well in the 1970s.

Alas, an appeal to the Internet for help brings up a hodge-podge of similar material, none of it all that helpful because it doesn't quite apply to our situation.

As a technical writer, I say that stinks.

First, I guess clock repair people are guarding their secrets. It's a rare situation where you don't find some helpful video on YouTube showing you how to fix the exact problem you're facing with ancient technology, or new stuff for that matter.

Second, a lot of what I found is still in that "one size fits all" mold that we all know isn't really all that helpful when at the foundation of it all, the parts they're showing and the methods they're using don't translate to the real world.

So as I struggle with my own writing challenges, I'm given a fresh reminder that we need to be careful to write to the exact situation and not leave people frustrated and guessing and hoping the Utah "Clock Doc" hasn't made one of his semiannual runs to Idaho yet. We'll see.

Clock Repairpeople We Are Not

So, Michelle was winding our grandfather clock over the weekend and the itty-bitty suspension spring broke, dropping the pendulum to the bottom of the clock.

Being the intrepid souls we are, we took the clock apart to see if we could fix things. Luckily, we had a spare suspension spring in with the clock paperwork, and we did manage to get that installed after both of us threatened to utter some swear words.

But clocks being clocks, there's more to it than that.

Right now, we're struggling to figure out how to get the pendulum hung from the spring without it interfering with the chime bars, which are kind of essential to a grandfather clock's charm.

Not being total idiots, we've stopped tinkering and are trying to locate a clock repair person to help us go the rest of the way.

And we'll have to buy some more suspension springs, though the one in the clock did last nearly 50 years.

Another Update

Isaac got tremendous news when he went into the hospital on Monday: The burn on his abdomen is healing much better than expected, so the second skin graft won't be needed.

He's also bandage-free on his arm.

His mission papers are submitted. And he's really itching to go to the temple.

Things are looking up.

Petulance, thy Name is Trump

President Trump and members of his cabinet were vaguely shot at yesterday.

I don't condone violence of any sort, let it be clear.

I don't condone hypocritical petulance, either.

Trump has said this wouldn't have happened if he'd had his White House ballroom.

School shootings, workplace shootings, and all the like wouldn't have happened had they had ballrooms either, per that logic.

But since Sen. Lindsey Graham sees fit to introduce legislation to let President Petulant get tax money to pay for his ballroom but nobody seems willing to lift a finger to do to much of anything to lessen the impact of school and workplace shootings, I say fie to it all.

We have a very hypocritical government. They get free health care, pensions -- and in some instances, jobs -- for life. And we pay for it all. But that kind of thing just isn't done for the masses. We have wars to fight, Trump says. So that means we can't pay for health care, or child care, or Social Security, or any of the other social safety net programs that actually show benefits outside the pocketbooks of arms contractors.

The sooner we elect someone besides this twink and his enablers, the better.

Ah, Meta . . .

 

Facebook has just "suggested for [me]" one of my own posts from earlier today and wants to know whether I'm interested in it.

[Clicks "not interested" just to mess with The Man.]

Here Come the Judge (Puts Down the Fudge)

Honorable Judge B. Lynn Winmill

United States District Court

550 W. Fort Street

Boise, ID 83724

My name is Brian Davidson. I am Randy Davidson’s brother, just a few years older than him. I live in Ammon, Idaho, and just marked by 20th year working as a technical writer with the Idaho Cleanup Project, currently with the Idaho Cleanup Project. I also teach an online English course at Brigham Young University-Idaho.

I’m writing this letter to express my love and support for Randy. He was my best friend growing up. I recall many adventures on our bicycles, exploring our neighborhood, the vacant lot in the industrial park near the home where we grew up, and through our involvement with the Boy Scouts of America and the Young Mens’ program in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Though he is younger than I am, I look up to him a lot. He reminds me a lot of our Dad: Studious, quiet, intelligent, and hard-working. I never felt a sense of competition with him; we just worked through things together. When he wanted to go with his other friends, I understood and mostly held back – he’s much more outgoing and courageous than I am.

We have common interests, from reading about World War II – Dad was a civilian in the Netherlands during the war – LEGOs, books, games, and other interests. When Randy comes home, we could certainly pick up on those pursuits again, and offer each other mutual support as we grapple with the challenges that life throws our way.

Randy is a humble person who knows and owns the mistakes he’s made. He’s worked hard to combat the addiction and demons that beset him. And he, like Dad, knuckled down at his jobs, even when he was treated with derision and hostility by his co-workers and supervisors because of his record. This world can be cruel to people who’ve made mistakes like Randy has, but he never ran from them. He never hid them. He owned his past and did the best he could do to not let it control the present. Though he has longed to reconned with his children, he respects their wishes to remain distant, though it hurts.

I appreciate the closeness he grew to have with our sister Maaike when he returned home. She was better positioned to be the best help for him, but please know he has an extensive and willing help and social network when he does come home. We have a large family and though at times we’re not exactly close, we do band together particularly when a family member is suffering. We recognize the godly requirement to love all and to work to remove the beams in our eyes rather than rail against the motes in the eyes of others.

My fondest memories of Randy came when my wife and I bought a house in the early 2000s and discovered the sprinkler system it came with was nonfunctional. He had experience in working on sprinklers, so came over and worked with me to see what we could do with the system we had. We dug a few trenches, found many broken components, and discovered a few functioning sprinkler heads, but nothing in the way that would water our lawn efficiently. I remember him, a week into the project, saying something along the lines of “We can either keep digging and following the lines and fixing the problems we discover along the way, or we can start fresh with a new system.” In a way that’s how he’s led his life since his troubles arrived, recognizing that some aspects were beyond repair and opting to start again. His resilience in the face of his own demons is awe inspiring.

When I think of my family, but of Randy particularly, I’m reminded of the song by The Hollies:

The road is long

With many a winding turn

That leads us to who knows where

Who knows where

But I'm strong

Strong enough to carry him

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

So on we go

His welfare is of my concern

No burden is he to bear

We'll get there

For I know

He would not encumber me

He ain't heavy, he's my brother.

Sincerely,

Brian Davidson

Well, this is Disappointing

 

Started reading "I Capture the Castle" by Dodie Smith - author of "101 Dalmatians," which is why I picked this book up.

Kinda glad I started reading it before I saw the trailer for the movie based on the book, because it's a bit soppy:

Also just found out the movie has an R rating, so maybe this won't be one I finish.

This is why, if AI is to be believed:

In a few ways it reminds me of "Little, Big," by John Crowley, another book I started but didn't finish. Like that one, thusfar Castle has been nearly plotless, though at this point it has had more of a plot than Little. While the lack of a plot was a reason to bail on Little, it was the rapes that really sealed the deal. People try to tell me Crowley wrote an epic modern fantasy; I just don't see it. And Castle isn't that far behind.

Irony is Dead

So I wanted to read this article about a new Google ad wrinkle that blurs the article you're reading until you watch their ad and click out of it.

But I couldn't, because the site put up an ad I had to watch and click out of it before I could read.

Irony is dead.

Irony

The irony hurts my head.

No to data centers in Idaho!

But I will use AI to generate this garbage, so sucks to be any other state.

Especially Wyoming, what with the AI-generated annexation of the western portion of the state.

A Little Follow-Up

A week or so later, Isaac's burns:

They believe his arm is doing nicely.

The belly, well, that's going to take more work. They think they'll have to do another skin graft surgery, either at the end of the week or beginning of next week, depending on the doctor's schedule.

Again, he's not a complainer. I would have been bellowing as they took a look and cleaned things up a bit after they took the bandages off. He said "ouch" a few times, but just kept on letting them work. He did stop them once, but only once, and only for a few moments.

He's worried this could delay his mission. It might, or they might give him a local option for a few months before things go further abroad. We'll have to see what happens.

First Person POV? A Bit Hard, Even for A Good Book

When I started reading Robin McKinley’s “Dragonhaven,” it made me angry.

First of all, first person. Not my favorite point of view for a book. I’m hard-wired a bit to avoid that.

Second of all, the voice. Very scattered. Very slow to come to the point.

But I suppose, after finishing the book, that was the point.

The protagonist is, of course, young. And while versed in many things related to dragons, not really versed in writing.

So the longer I read, the more the point of view and the voice fit. Yes, at times, it was like trying to read one of my younger students’ essays, typical stream of consciousness garble that they usually are. They wear me out. Sometimes you have to read a paragraph, or a series of paragraphs, over and over again to get the gist, and even then you’re not really sure.

That’s what this book felt like, start to finish. Not necessarily how I would have done it, but clearly McKinley made a choice and she stuck with it. It certainly lent her character a unique voice.

I worried at times, however, that the voice got in the way of the story. I can be a demanding reader, and this story demanded a bit more than I actually got.

Remembering the main character’s name? Really hard to do. I got it in the last 40 or so pages.

Being able to tell but a few characters apart? Not really. That was hard, but as the POV is written from kind of an egocentric point of view, maybe that’s mission accomplished.

I’ve read a few other McKinley books and will stick with those. This one tells a good story, but the approach to it was a bit too grating for me to get into it.

Don't get me wrong: This is a good story, telling an interesting tale. McKinley is a strong writer, rich in dragon lore that's historic and contemporary and a bit of her own invention. I just had a hard time with the approach, that's all.

Are They Even Paying Attention?

The Salt Lake Tribune recently published an article claiming some in the LDS Church have "Pope envy," in which they ask why our church leadership isn't speaking out against war, like Pope Leo.

In all due respect, it's clear these were not paying attention during April Conference.

So many talks about peacemakers and finding peace in Christ.

Our leaders don't have to specifically point out "this war," or "this action" is bad; that is baked ino the gospel of Christ.

This from President Oaks, said just a few weeks ago, suffices for me:

"Truly, Jesus Christ is the way to peace in this world and eternal life in the world to come. He knows and loves each of us perfectly and invites us to walk with Him, abide in Him, and follow His example of ministering to others one by one in charity and love. . . May we all demonstrate the pure love of Christ in our families, in our communities, and in all of our interactions with God’s children."

And he wasn't the only one.

This from Elder Eyring:

"The world today seems to be in commotion. There are wars and rumors of wars. The economies of whole continents seem to be faltering. Prophesied wickedness seems to be accelerating as the Savior’s return draws nearer.

"Yet despite turmoil and difficulty, faithful Latter-day Saints in hardship across the world have flooded heaven with prayers. In public and in private, they are petitioning the Lord for help, for comfort, for direction, and for personal peace for those they love."

I'm often confused by folks who criticize religion for mixing with politics, but then get upset when religion doesn't mix with politics in the way and in the time they think it should.

War is bad. It is rarely justifiable. The messages of peace that I hear again and again from church leaders affirms that to me 

I applaud Pope Leo for speaking out as he did. I ask those who think our leaders should do likewise to pay attention to what they've been saying all along.

Maybe We'll Get A *New* Nest

Today's accomplishment: A little flower garden prep:

I did do other stuff, but this is the most photogenic.

I tossed an old bird nest from one of the hanging baskets, and it reminded me of this:

This is from the robin who built the nest there last year.

Warning: Teeth

Of course we have a clear little box with four teeth in it on our kitchen counter. Who doesn't?

They're Isaac's wisdom teeth, extracted this week. Yes, the same week he had to have surgery. It's been a tough week for him.

That's the Way it Was, with the Old Man

Back in 1976, when we were celebrating the bicentennial of the United States, we got stuff like this. Good ol' Darren McGavin, the Old Man himself, delivering real news, not that politic slop.

We also got crap like this, so it wasn't all good:

We're in a much, shall we say, stranger era today. We're post-irony, post-cynicism, and in places where we'd have "woke" spokespeople on one side of the 250th arguing with the non-woke on the other.

I don't know that we're any more polarized than we were in the 1970s, but we're certainly a lot louder about it.

Tired Guy Duty

So Isaac went into wound care this morning for a follow-up, and they decided they needed to do a little surgery. So he was in for day surgery. Michelle was with him up until about 1:30, but she had to go to the dentist for a root canal and crown, so I stayed with him that afternoon.

Sorry for the graphic photo. These are the burns on his abdomen, which had them concerned. So they put him under briefly, removed the dead tissue, then put on some cadaver skin as a temporary bandage as he heals.

So he had dead guy duty.

He is a dynamo, though. He was done with surgery and discharged at 4:30, but before we could go home we had to stop to get him something to eat, back to the hospital so he could get his pineapple juice out of his truck (he's getting his wisdom teeth removed tomorrow, and was told the juice would help with the swelling), then out to the plant so he could get stuff from his locker, then to the company store for some ice cream, then to Walmart for a poncho, then finally home where I dropped him off but took his brother to the hospital again to pick up Isaac's truck.

He's the one who had surgery, but I'm the one who's tired. Though he has gone to bed and I'm still up like a moron.

I Did This. A Little.

I don't get to talk a lot about the specifics on the work I do, but since the company published this, I guess I can blab a little.

I did indeed help on the paperwork to make this happen. I'm part of a group that writes and edits reports that are used to track waste like this from cradle to grave. It's challenging work, but I certainly enjoy it. Well, parts of it. Some of it bears the ickiness of any job, but you put up with a lot for a paycheck.

Oh, I Got Dead Again.

 

This is what you get from your laid-back son when he's doused with 185-degree water mixed with a caustic solution and has to go to the ER for treatment.

If anyone asks, he's fine. And ready to go back to work tomorrow.

My Grandpa Car

I was visiting my father-in-law over the weekend, and happened to come as my brother-in-law and their family were leaving after a brief Spring Break visit.

We got to talking about my car, a 2005 Honda Pilot which we bought from my father-in-law for $10,000. I don't remember when it was, but we've had it ever since, which I think is about ten or so years after that.

Carl, my brother-in-law, asked what work we've had to have done on it to keep it running. It's got 260,000 miles on it now.

I had to think about it for a bit.

Aside from regular maintenance, from battery replacement (once), new tires, (once) and oil changes and such, the only repairs I've had to have done is to replace the starter and replace the gas cap.

So it's been a *really* reliable vehicle for us.

I don't have an accounting like the one in this video, but I believe it's comparable.

There are some repairs which should probably be done:

1. I've got an air bag sensor that's gone bad.

2. The power steering has developed a small leak.

We've tried finding a used sensor at the scrap yards, but apparently this is a common failure point on Pilots, so the one we need is always missing.

And as for the power steering, the leak is small enough to the point I'm not that worried about it yet. It's more an annoyance to have to top up the fluid every once in a while than anything else.

Knock on wood, it'll keep running for a lot longer.

The Pie-Industrial Complex

 

I am part of the Pie-Industrial Complex.

My full-time job as a technical writer supports cleanup of waste mostly left over from the Manhattan Project.

While I'm grateful for the work, this commercial from 1971 certainly packs a message. Where do we want our money going?

President Trump is telling us we need money to fight wars, and that money for health care or daycare or whatever it is at home that we need is secondary to that fight. Nevermind it's wars that idiot started himself because War is Cool or something, according to the Beavi and Butt-Heads he's got surrounding him in Washington and elsewhere (I'm looking at you, Israel).

Traffic Blockage

I don't usually go home on Pancheri Drive, but today's activity made it necessary.

I won't do that again.

At the intersection of Pancheri and Utah avenues, this:

Note the green light.

No one was moving. You can see cars trying to turn left off of Utah Avenue went into the intersection on the yellow and got caught on the red. They were effectively blocking the intersection for those trying to turn left off Pancheri to Utah, as I was, because I already know the series of lights ahead (Pancheri and Capital, Pancheri and Yellowstone) are an absolute cluster most of the time and particularly at this time of day, say about 5:45 p,m.

The red circle shows the intersection I was stuck at. Yellow shows the lights further down the line, where reds were causing traffic to back up and idiot drivers were blocking the road.

A complication I suspect: Neither the intersection at Utah or Capital, operated by the city of Idaho Falls, have cameras. The intersection at Yellowstone does have cameras, but it's operated by the state, as Yellowstone is technically US 26/I-15 Business route. I don't think the city and state coordinate these lights well at all, because if they were coordinated, we wouldn't see traffic backing up from Capital or Yellowstone all the way across the Pancheri Bridge to Utah and beyond.

There are four river crossings locally. Two are clusters. This one, and the one on Grandview which turns into US-20 and intersects with an interchange with I-15. I usually take that route and get off and go home via downtown and First Street, which is a slow way across town - a good portion of it is 25 miles per hour - but thus sees a lot less traffic than the other routes.

This city needs some serious traffic planning, as does the county. Bless them, they try. But we have a good contingent of intersection-blocking locals who don't want things to change, even though things are changing. They're idiots.

Where Were You When World War Three Started, Grandpa?

So yeah, these, our modern times, suck.

And so do a lot of people living in our modern times. But I try not to pay attention to that.

A few things I do pay attention to:

-- Those looking at Revelation in the New Testament as a clear play-by-play of how the "end times" are going to come about should really, really be careful in separating those who ask us to humble ourselves and repent and try as hard as we can to get along from those who look at Armageddon and think, "How can I actively make that come to pass?"

What was it he said that got everyone so upset?

Be kind to each other.

Oh yeah. That'll do it.

We seemed to have stepped back from the brink this week. But only just, and our Dear Leaders are still dancing on the edge of the precipice. Kinda like this:

Grab a fence post, hold it tight,

Whomp your partner will all your might.

Hit him in the chin, hit him in the head,

Hit him again that critter ain't dead.

Whomp him low and whomp him high,

Stick your finger in his eye.

Pretty little rhythm, pretty little sound,

Bang your heads against the ground.

So where was I? I was at home, washing my tights.

Because talking to our representatives does nothing. They're so deep inside the machine now they don't really listen to us unless we're echoing what they're already thinking. I wish that was cynicism talking, but it's reality.

Bookshelves? A Zero Sum Game

Between things today, I added another six feet of shelves for books in the study, hoping that extra room would let me squeeze in all of the books sitting near the shelves, plus all the other books we have hidden around the house.

Those of you with books know how this ended. While some of the shelves have more wiggle room, I still don't have enough shelves for the books we have.

And I had to take five pictures off the wall to make room for the new shelf. This is a zero-sum game.

UPDATE: With a bit more shuffling, I was able to get the stray books stuck randomly on top of other books on the shelves put away properly, but there's still not enough room for all the books we have. I have a good four linear feet I took out to work, and between the "to read" piles Michelle and I have, that's another four linear feet, so I don't know what to do. Except to go out and buy more books.

And yes, we are getting rid of books. Well, two books. One is a falling-apart copy of Richard Adams' "Watership Down," and another is a surplus paperback copy of Laura Hillenbrand's "Unbroken."

I Should Probably Learn how to Lay Tile

One of these days, I should probably learn how to lay tile.

What's left? Well, the tile by the water valve is sunk in a little bit, so I probably have to take that out and redo it. Not looking forward to that. But I've also got to finish the glass accent, then decide how to top if off. I'm hearing rumblings from Michelle that she doesn't want the glass right at the top. But I'm dealing with huge tile, and I've only got four pieces left of it. I might have to go to Lowe's and find something I can put on top of the glass row to make it not at the top (aside from the edge tile, which will be the top).

Getting that row of tile in between the tub and the tile I already placed was tricky as always, but I got it. And only really screwed up on one cut, so I'm feeling pretty good about the day.

I also did some cleaning -- not near enough, but got a start on it -- so the next few rounds should be easier. I want to do some more cleaning tomorrow between Conference sessions.

Book Review: Tales of the Peculiar

Finished reading this book today, and highly recommend it.

I haven't read any of Riggs' other books, though the titles are familiar.  This one caught my eye at the local thrift store based on the illustration, and there are a lot of them throughout the book. The illustrations are by Andrew Davidson, maybe a distant relative. Anyway, anyone with that name is a winner in my book.

Two tales in particular stood out, principally for the morals they embody. The Locust is probably my favorite; a tale on honestly loving those that surround us. Right behind is The Man Who Bottled the Sun, which should be read and ignored by every oligarch on the planet because it couldn't possibly have any bearing on their behavior.

This one's a keeper.

Juvenile

 

I have a problem.

I work in the nuclear field. I encounter mention of the element strontium constantly in the papers I edit.

I'm half Dutch. "Stront" is Dutch for poop.

Did I mention this is a *juvenile* problem?

Shunning the Cross?

This is one of two new statues that find a home at Temple Square in Salt Lake.

What's startling to me about this one is the clear display of the cross -- something that's typically been anathema in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Some in the church get sniffy and say they worship the living Christ, not the Christ on the cross. But I kinda feel like we've got to take the full package and ought to acknowledge more in the church that we do outwardly recognize the sacrifice the cross represents.

I'm not going to get tangled in culture -- because culture is about all it is, frankly. When I see someone wearing a cross, or see cross-centric statuary, I'm not bothered by it. The cross is an important, powerful symbol to most Christians.

The lack of crosses -- whether by culture or doctrine, and I'm not sure which holds more sway -- is part of the package of anti- or skeptical-Mormon thought out there. Our outward symbols are odd: the angel Moroni atop the temple, statues of Joseph Smith all over the place. Not that they're wrong; they're doctrinally and culturally significant to us. But I don't think it will hurt our chances if we allow a cross or two to slip into the culture.

I served a mission for the church in France. I loved visiting the churches, from the little parish churches to the grand cathedrals. The history, the architecture, and the deep symbolic meaning in the many depictions of Jesus Christ with and on and without the cross brought significant meaning as I strove to understand the culture and beliefs of the people I served. I won't say I understood everything, and might at times have mocked things. But I was a callow youth who should have been a better ambassador of Christ than I was.

One Case of Tile Left

Made progress today - again - on the basement bathroom. I'm down to one case of tile, so I may have to sneak over to Lowe's to see if I can snag a few more pieces. I might have enough, I might not. We'll have to see. But it is about as high as it's going with some additional trim pieces, so maybe not.

And that's good, because I'm utterly sick of this project.

When I posted this on Facebook, Meta AI offered to answer the question "Why is Brian getting sick of the project?" I'm not really sure they delved the depths of the possible answers:

An Old Lady Fart

A Matchpoint Drive Playlet:

Me: [In the study, reading a book while the rest of the family watches Dr. Who in the next room.]

Alexa, on the desk behind me: FFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPT. That was an old lady one. Ask me if you want me to give you a cheek-wobbling fart.

Me: [Stunned silence.]

Liam and Michelle deny all knowledge of the Old Lady Fart delivered by Alexa.

I have to wonder if Isaac Davidson is somehow involved . . .

Checklist, Check

I'm trying really hard to read and enjoy this book, but the authors are making it *really* hard.

I'm generally not a fan of war fiction. There are so many true stories out there to read there doesn't seem to be a need to get into the fiction end of things. I have, however, made some exceptions, and found some pretty good stories out there.

This is not one of them. I'll finish, but there's not much of a chance I'll get past Book One; this is apparently a series.

I appreciate that writers - myself included - may make checklists as we plan the stories we write, but this book's principal shortcoming is that it wears that checklist on its sleeve.

Americans training in England where they're "oversexed, overpaid, and over here," check.

Spunky member of the crew killed needlessly by his own hubris, check.

Friend of the spunky crew member brooding in resentment, check.

Leader grappling with his own personal demons that he keeps in check because he's the leader, check.

New love interest for the leader, identified in wartime, kissing him out of the blue because it's on the checklist, check.

Member of the French Resistance popping into the story randomly, sometimes interacting with the group, sometimes not, in a subplot that still may be paid off but you never know, check.

War-weary surgeon in a proto-MASH refusing to evacuate the hospital because there's a bomb nearby because his patients "will" die if they evacuate versus everyone "could" die if they're there and the bomb goes off, check.

I'll predict a few more as we go along; I still have about 100 or so pages to read:

Longtime friend of the leader who also went into dangerous work killed heroically in action, check.

Resentful friend of the dead spunky crewmember either

a. Killed in action, mirroring the death of his spunky friend, or,

b. Forged into a new leader despite himself by the leader he blames for his friend's death,

check.

It's good to read these books, though. Inspires me to do better. Checklists are fine, but ya gotta bury them. And a lot of that could be done by showing, rather than telling. Put near all of the resentment in the character mentioned, for example, is delivered in dialogue, rarely in action. I keep forgetting the resentment is there because we don't see it in action, we only hear it occasionally in the dialogue.

UPDATE: Finished. And this is what came to pass (slight spoilers if you don't have the checklist):

Resentful friend of the dead spunky crewmember forged (very preliminarily) into a new leader despite himself by the leader he blames for his friend's death,

The Dreams are Back

There for a long time, I had no dreams.

And by dreams, I mean the weird middle-of-the-night stories the ol' brain produces, from the frightening to the silly to the mundane.

Why are they back?

I gave up caffeine for Lent.

Not necessarily gave up, but certainly cut back.

I'm down from three or four cans of Diet Pepsi a day to only one with caffeine, the rest without.

I should cut it completely - the Pepsi as well as the caffeine - but that'll have to be more gradual.

I'm less jittery now. Getting better sleep. The lack of caffeine has affected my ordinary cherubic demeanor, but even that effect is lessening.

I'm not ready for any blimp attack drills, but it's certainly been better with less caffeine in the system. Because I like my stupid dreams.

It does mean this: I may have to go back to setting an alarm. Before I cut back on the joy juice, I slept much more lightly and was almost always up on time. Now I hit a good bout of deep sleep right around 5 am, and I have to be up by six. That's been tougher.

Beware the Bot Exhaustion

So, I think we're mostly aware that fake news - and fake news purveyors - are a real thing. And while the Venn diagram of such may occasionally include legitimate news outlets, the biggest problem by far are the Joe Six-Packs and Betty Housecoats we encounter on social media.

Only less dangerous than these are the actual real people who believe what the propaganda farm bots post and spread around.

That probably includes me. And you. Nobody is immune.

So we really, really need as individuals to be very careful in believing what we see online. As Benn Jordan says at the conclusion of this video:

"At this point in time, you should always be asking yourself if social media users or features are separating you from your own instincts or logical conclusions because this isn't political; the goal is not to make you support a particular party or candidate. The goal is to make you constantly question your own convictions by filling your entire world with conspiracy theories. The goal is to make educating yourself about your surroundings and questioning what's real or not so exhausting that you're too worn down to care that there's lead in your childrens' drinking water. You're too worn down to care that the American life expectancy has dropped below the average of some developing countries. What politically-oriented problems are bigger than those things?"

Media literacy has entered a new era, and we've got to be really vigilant lest we fail.

What an Odd Thing to Say

I can't read the New York Times story on this, but it sounds like an up-and-coming author won't be coming anymore as accusations of artificial intelligence use are being leveled at her and her work.

In sum, author Mia Ballard's "Shy Girl" - a horror novel outside my area of interest - might be as much as 78% written by artificial intelligence.

Of course, that's a dicey measurement.

AI detectors look at patterns to determine if writing is machine produced, using the same kind of large language models that AI uses, so there's lots of ickiness to go around. I teach at a university in its English department, and we're cautioned about using these AI-detectors as there are plenty of things that trigger the AI detectors that aren't necessarily AI.

I started watching the "Frankie's Shelf" video at this link from Jezebel, but as it clocks in at nearly three hours, there's no chance in hell I'm going to finish it all.

But the evidence presented is telling.

The cover on her self-published book was ripped off from another artist.

There's odd formatting issues throughout the book - something you might chalk up to the initial indie publishing of the story - and readings and analyses by sleuths from Goodreads to the New York Times detect AI patterns throughout.

The author, in her defense, claims it was a developmental editor who introduced AI to the story. And that seems an odd thing to say. Surely an author, whose reputation depends on the words he or she writes, would read anything doctored by an editor and notice enough differences to send up their own red flags before pushing that publish button.

Whether or not that's true should be easy to determine: A draft of the novel before the editor got it could be examined to see if it has the tells of artificial intelligence. I highly doubt that will come to pass.

And Hachette, her publisher in the UK and would-be publisher in the US, should have detected the AI, but clearly the idea of a new novel got in their eyes. Only after the NYT analysis did they pull the plug.

Cadfael for Writers

Yet another lucky find at the local thrift.

A good book for aspiring writers to read, as we get to see Cadfael, a beloved character, develop. We get to see Brother Jerome, fully developed in his righteous smarm. Peters used the stories in this book - in my opinion - to develop Cadfael as a character, bringing in other characters after Cadfael was fully formed. So very instructional.

And the stories are great, though the denouement of the third was a bit abrupt.

A Weasley Way to Meet Constituents

Mike Simpson, a word:

Got one of your robocalls tonight announcing RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW you're doing a telephone town hall and that I should stay on the line to be connected to participate.

This kind of call is a fancy way to say "Hey, I *tried* to meet with my constituents, but, yanno, they didn't stay on the line to participate, so it's on them."

No, sir, it's on you.

You caught me at an inconvenient time. I was just heading into a Scout meeting and could not attend your telephone town hall, as much as I might want to do that.

If you're sincere in wanting to meet with your constituents - and of that I have my doubts - you'd schedule your telephone town halls enough in advance that your constituents could plan for them, not have to drop everything they're doing RIGHT NOW in the hopes of having the blessed opportunity of maybe possibly asking you a question as long as it's not too inconvenient to answer.

Representative Russ Fulcher schedules his telephone town halls and gives his constituents ample notice of them. You should learn from that example.

Do better, congressman. Do better.

NOTE: I sent him this in Facebook Messenger, and posted it on my wall. Will update if I get any response. Which I also doubt will happen.

Cranky Textee

 

Got this text last night.

I seriously hope my last missive was delivered, too, but I doubt it.

Why not respond to an anonymous - well, it's from "Sarah," so I guess it's not *totally* anonymous - text?

Because who are these people? Why do they want me, L.H. Puttgrass, Pundit for the People, to respond? Will they ask a bunch of questions and weed out any answers that don't fit with the narrative they're pushing? I don't know. But likely.

I'm sure they think telling us in advance who they are might spoil the answers they get, so that's why they're mum.

So they get nothing from me. There's so much dishonesty out there, and I'm a paranoid and suspicious bastard, so no thank you.

Ghosts of Nixon

This is the operative statement. All other statements are inoperative.

~Ron Ziegler

Why is our president such a maroon?

He Amused Himself with His Monkey, Part Infinite

 

I'm trying, book, but when you tell me characters are sitting around outside smoking and talking in one sentence and then in another not too far distant tell me there's enough rain and lightning there to menace the airplanes they're watching, I have a hard time paying attention to the story.