Apr 12, 2014
Nothing Runs Like a Deere and Murdering Endangered Turtles
The two-tractor fleet has raised steam and stands ready to sortie at the command of Higher.
It is an annual event, a spring tuneup and oil change combined with this-and-that small rehabs and upgrades. The process brought no real trouble. Both 318s popped off quickly with a battery boost. The mower version did choose shortly thereafter to reject its ancient battery. Down-home fixes to flush out the sulfate no longer worked. A trip to Arnold Motor Supply and $80.37 solved the problem.
The baby bulldozer -- same model with a blade instead of a mower deck -- was more tractable and wanted only a few body bolts tightened. I was grateful enough to do a polish job on the plastic hood. That looked so nice Ms. Mower got a similar beauty treatment with Turtle Wax that has hidden in the shed since an auction during, probably, the Clinton Administration.
Leaving only the trim mower still untouched, a $99.97 WalMart special which has run an amazing number of years for an obvious throwaway machine. It will get its share of attention, but no polish. When a guy gets fussy about pretty push mowers -- in fact, about much "trimming" at all -- he enters the danger zone for Spandex, cross Nike trainers, and a cute cement skunk under one of the river birches.
it all took some time, so I wasn't able to write my essay on the Bundy Ranch travesty and the federal government decision to murder the desert tortoises it has been using as an excuse to steal Mr. Bundy's cattle. Never mind. Joel did it.
Apr 11, 2014
Place holder complete with lame excuses
I'm in debt, in the hole, owing my blog quite a lot. A promised report on the local loophole two weeks ago, the end of the maple syrup saga, further ruminations on the Coltoid Commander project, an embarrassingly self-congratulatory report of progress in bringing Camp Jiggleview, of which I am Commandant, up to at least Pa Kettle standards. Lord knows what else.
I haven't even vented my spleen on the increasingly mournful assault on the American dollar by those hired to protect it. (Sorry, for "dollar" read "Federal Reserve Cartoon.")
Honest, Pa, I'll do 'er but I cain't find my round tuit yet.
For the moment, however, non-journalistic demands are in command. New Dog Libby, for instance, is being an incredible nuisance in the spring sun, bitching constantly -- if articulately only in lab language (nose on lap; drool on shoes) -- that we haven't played fetch for, why, it must be twenty minutes now.
Also, I come to you as of an hour ago from the official Base Administrative Center rather than the Great Room of the CO quarters. It's nice to be nestled again in the big library. The books don't make me any smarter, but they make me feel smarter, and, damn it, that has to count for something.
I haven't even vented my spleen on the increasingly mournful assault on the American dollar by those hired to protect it. (Sorry, for "dollar" read "Federal Reserve Cartoon.")
Honest, Pa, I'll do 'er but I cain't find my round tuit yet.
For the moment, however, non-journalistic demands are in command. New Dog Libby, for instance, is being an incredible nuisance in the spring sun, bitching constantly -- if articulately only in lab language (nose on lap; drool on shoes) -- that we haven't played fetch for, why, it must be twenty minutes now.
Also, I come to you as of an hour ago from the official Base Administrative Center rather than the Great Room of the CO quarters. It's nice to be nestled again in the big library. The books don't make me any smarter, but they make me feel smarter, and, damn it, that has to count for something.
Apr 7, 2014
A once and future life
Three days ago, in the deary morning:
A little later that day;
A few minutes ago:
j
In a few hours, supper. Eggs over, buckwheats, maple syrup which never saw a truck, a supermarket, or a fossil-fuel fire
A little later that day;
A few minutes ago:
j
In a few hours, supper. Eggs over, buckwheats, maple syrup which never saw a truck, a supermarket, or a fossil-fuel fire
Augusta
CBS teevee reminds me this morning that a golf tournament happens later this week. This excites me because it could easily produce news of sufficient drama and significance to push the hide-and-seek for a Malaya airplane off Page One.
It would help this national media rebalance if professional feminists, strangely silent this Master's season, would tune up their shriek cords and track down some network news crews. It could be they are still sedated by recent pro-diversity decisions in Augusta, but certainly there's something still bitchworthy, maybe a lack of unisex locker rooms or something like that, Anyway, without socio-cultural drama, all that really happens down there is a golf game with muted baritone announcers saying, "Let's go to 17."
One other possibility exists, though I may have to orchestrate the national outrage all by myself. CBS chose to hustle the tournament today with a darling feature on some pre-pubes playing the course, including a lovely 11-year-old Chinese -American lass who "drives 163 yards ... you will hear more of her."
That's sad in and of itself, but another factoid adds to it. This youngster was handed her first mashie at age six and ordered, or encouraged, to practice golf, and if that doesn't constitute actionable child abuse, I don't know what does.
It would help this national media rebalance if professional feminists, strangely silent this Master's season, would tune up their shriek cords and track down some network news crews. It could be they are still sedated by recent pro-diversity decisions in Augusta, but certainly there's something still bitchworthy, maybe a lack of unisex locker rooms or something like that, Anyway, without socio-cultural drama, all that really happens down there is a golf game with muted baritone announcers saying, "Let's go to 17."
One other possibility exists, though I may have to orchestrate the national outrage all by myself. CBS chose to hustle the tournament today with a darling feature on some pre-pubes playing the course, including a lovely 11-year-old Chinese -American lass who "drives 163 yards ... you will hear more of her."
That's sad in and of itself, but another factoid adds to it. This youngster was handed her first mashie at age six and ordered, or encouraged, to practice golf, and if that doesn't constitute actionable child abuse, I don't know what does.
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