I was just talking with Diogenes and...

he told me that there is no hope for honesty in the nation until a two-by-four measures two inches by four inches.

I rang him him up after finding an ancient piece of dimension lumber in the shed. It measured two inches by four inches.  I have offered it to the Smithsonian. If they decline, I'll try the Cato Institute.

Meanwhile, the project progresses, using  three and one-half (barely, these days) by one and one-halfs.

Golden Fleece

Working for modern politicians, Jason wouldn't have had to steal much fleece to renew his fleet.  A couple of the ram's nose hairs would probably cover a shiny new trireme.

Courtesy of AFP we learn that  Ben and Barry and all their recent predecessors and current pals have pushed gold through  $1,400 per ounce.

Making those who worked hard and saved their money look like a bunch of stupes. We're on a path to the day when lighting your smoke with a C-note will not be thought remarkable.

I think I'll keep hieing myself to the WalMart to invest a little more in value-added lead, copper, and zinc. Which are, of course, following gold up at $1.14, $3.96, and $1.13. respectively.

No you can't, Mr. President

We're all getting a little sick of your self-portrait as a brilliant policy maker but a poor salesman for your ideas.

Barack Obama as Willy Loman? My butt.

Mr. President,  if there's one thing you have it is the huckster talent. You could sell horse apples at a rodeo. That's how you came to be president.
.

Timbeeerrr

We called this a good Saturday morning's work. The old burr oak on the property line was long dead and leaning over the storage shed and the house.

Choice: Drop several hundred into the pocket of a tree pro or unleash my inner Paul Bunyan.

The latter, of course. Economics aside, neither the other Paul, my neighbor,  nor I concede one damned thing to the woods. If it has leaves we can handle it.

It took an hour to lay her down, also two pickups in 4WD low range, three hundred feet of 5/8 nylon,  a 10-inch  pulley,   plus the usual saws, wedges,and unfortunate language.

The notch  and straight cut were in the right places. We had no trouble pulling her on the hinge to get the new center of gravity  where we wanted it.  Then came the hangups  in the high branches of the nearby trees.  A few more judicious cuts almost  got her falling. This is where the injudicious language came into play, culminated by my stentorian voice at the tree, to Paul in his pickup,  "Hit it. Give that  *X%$(*&@ all you got."   


The 5/8 nylon line instantly  became nearer to 3/8. There was a certain amount of noise as Paul revved his half-ton up to 3500 or so and the object tree tore widow makers from its neighbors on its way to the deck.

I'm actually burning some of the small, high branches this morning. I feel quite smug about it all, knowing that success resulted from clever planning, careful selection of equipment,  and great finesse of execution. There are those who will sniff about brute force and blind luck. I thumb my nose at them.