Pokey, my RFD postman, comes by every day but Sunday. I get the mail about twice a week. It's a gift.
I haven't achieved that self autonomy of Travis McGee who once told us that the true test of independence was throwing away mail without looking to see who it came from. He adds that women never achieve this satori. "They always have to look."
So do I most of the time. Such as this morning. A complete list of USPS leavings since last I trudged the 80 yards to the box
-- A sincerely personal birthday card from my state rep, bar coded.
-- A Capitol One come-on for a high-limit, high-reward credit card, promising in the large print that I can buy everything I want and fly free in the bargain. I didn't read the agate because I suspect that, depressingly, it says I have to pay it all back.
-- A J.C. Penny announcement that as an "amazing customer" I can earn discounts and "points" for spending a lot of money over two separate shopping days. I amazed Mr. Penney by getting a credit card last year (two minutes, at the checkout) and buying a couple-three hundred worth of Christmas gifts strictly for the 15 per cent discount to new credit slaves. I amazed him further by walking directly from checkout to customer service and writing a check for the balance due-- the prices less 15 per cent. Haven't been in the place since. A human accountant would find this an amazingly good reason to jerk my Penney plastic. His computer programmers may eventually get around to it.
-- A spritely brochure from Congressman Steve King warning that my president is balancing the budget (bullshit) on my back and those of my fellow old farts. King, a small-government conservative, awakens my fear that I might not get as much free shit as I want unless I call to thank him for being a great small-government conservative who makes my neighbors pay for my health care.
-- A dignified letter from a regional funeral outfit, offering me the chance to "pre-plan" my departure ceremonies. I reject this instantly on grounds of linguistic asymmetry. The single alternative is to post-plan the party, and, despite some formal training in logical processes, I can't think of how this could be effectuated.
-- Two more reminders that it's open enrollment season for insurance switching. These get pitched unopened. Even if AARP and United Health Care aren't lying very much, I don't figure the free shit I'm already getting from my neighbors, thanks to small-government-conservative Congressman King, can get much freer.
-- A cable/net connection bill. Check for rate increase (yep, but small). Then pitch it. Thank you Autopay.
-- The local shopper from last Wednesday which I should read in order to identify the good auctions occurring last weekend.
Oct 23, 2011
The lesson of the standing willow
When a comely lady distracts you as you install a fresh chain on your Stihl, you might might put it on backwards. You will discover this when you try to fell the middling-size willow that's leaning too far over your driveway.
No, moving to the other side of the tree is not a solution.
No, moving to the other side of the tree is not a solution.
Connected Nation and your human right to get the Travis McGee Reader free and fast.
Take a hundred Iowans.*
Ask them about their internet connections. You will be told -- or at least an outfit called Connect Iowa says you'll be told -- that 37 of them lack broadband. Round the numbers and call them the deprived third.
This amazes me because more than a year ago my president announced an end to the horror. Some $7 billion in economic recovery money was being printed --strike that -- was being dispatched to ensure that very Montana line camp had instant access to freakysheep.xxx. (Okay, If you insist on quibbling, His Obamaness took Charlie McBiden out of the suitcase and spoke through him. But you must admit you could see presidential lips moving.)
The underbuzz in the Connect Iowa report is a wail of anguish about our poor deprived rurals stuck with something between zero and 56k downloads. To be fair, however, the group did ask the 37 "why?" and published the answers.
"(Shrieksperson Amy) Kuhler says the largest reason given for not having broadband access was they didn’t feel it was relevant and they didn’t need to have access. ...16% said they didn’t have a computer, 15% said security was an issue, and 10% said broadband was too complicated to figure out. "
That is, they don't want it.
That leaves just seven bucolic souls out of a hundred who might want to get your blog megabytally but can't.
So, of course, "Kuhlers says they will use the survey results to address some of the connection issues." Translation: We intend to soak you for the money to buy high speed for Gus Porcina, 85, who lives over on Hogpoo Creek.
I wonder if Connect Iowa has really pondered the amazing free-market truth revealed in its own study: "Kuhlers says the top reason Iowans gave for using broadband is they realized it was worth the cost."
---
Why so many words on what might seem a minor topic?
Because Connect Iowa is a bucolic appendage to the national Connected Nation, which is coy about who's paying the propaganda bills. I mean, good shriekspeople like Amy don't come cheap.
In a profile prepared for journalists, Connected Nation poses as one of its "Frequently Asked Questions" "How is Connected Nation funded?" it cryptically responds that "Connected Nation is primarily funded through public-private partnerships." It provides no details of what exactly the partnerships are or who they are with.
I am winging it here, based on some personal experience with these 501c(3) oufits who "partner " their tax-free donations with your compulsory tax donations. Often, a private firm or trade group wants a nice income, but can't actually sell products. They could, however, give them away if they could solve the cash-flow problem that creates. And they do, quite creatively. They lash together a "non-profit" and hire Amy et al. to create the illusion of a pressing social need. And doesn't government exist solely to meet pressing social needs?
Ergo, government must buy the product and give it to the customer, making it free. What a good idea, especially if that part about the seven billion dollars sort of slips your mind.
---
* Let me pick the hundred, and I mean the statement quite literally.
Ask them about their internet connections. You will be told -- or at least an outfit called Connect Iowa says you'll be told -- that 37 of them lack broadband. Round the numbers and call them the deprived third.
This amazes me because more than a year ago my president announced an end to the horror. Some $7 billion in economic recovery money was being printed --strike that -- was being dispatched to ensure that very Montana line camp had instant access to freakysheep.xxx. (Okay, If you insist on quibbling, His Obamaness took Charlie McBiden out of the suitcase and spoke through him. But you must admit you could see presidential lips moving.)
The underbuzz in the Connect Iowa report is a wail of anguish about our poor deprived rurals stuck with something between zero and 56k downloads. To be fair, however, the group did ask the 37 "why?" and published the answers.
"(Shrieksperson Amy) Kuhler says the largest reason given for not having broadband access was they didn’t feel it was relevant and they didn’t need to have access. ...16% said they didn’t have a computer, 15% said security was an issue, and 10% said broadband was too complicated to figure out. "
That is, they don't want it.
That leaves just seven bucolic souls out of a hundred who might want to get your blog megabytally but can't.
So, of course, "Kuhlers says they will use the survey results to address some of the connection issues." Translation: We intend to soak you for the money to buy high speed for Gus Porcina, 85, who lives over on Hogpoo Creek.
I wonder if Connect Iowa has really pondered the amazing free-market truth revealed in its own study: "Kuhlers says the top reason Iowans gave for using broadband is they realized it was worth the cost."
---
Why so many words on what might seem a minor topic?
Because Connect Iowa is a bucolic appendage to the national Connected Nation, which is coy about who's paying the propaganda bills. I mean, good shriekspeople like Amy don't come cheap.
In a profile prepared for journalists, Connected Nation poses as one of its "Frequently Asked Questions" "How is Connected Nation funded?" it cryptically responds that "Connected Nation is primarily funded through public-private partnerships." It provides no details of what exactly the partnerships are or who they are with.
I am winging it here, based on some personal experience with these 501c(3) oufits who "partner " their tax-free donations with your compulsory tax donations. Often, a private firm or trade group wants a nice income, but can't actually sell products. They could, however, give them away if they could solve the cash-flow problem that creates. And they do, quite creatively. They lash together a "non-profit" and hire Amy et al. to create the illusion of a pressing social need. And doesn't government exist solely to meet pressing social needs?
Ergo, government must buy the product and give it to the customer, making it free. What a good idea, especially if that part about the seven billion dollars sort of slips your mind.
---
* Let me pick the hundred, and I mean the statement quite literally.
Oct 22, 2011
Hey! Which way is there, and are we almost there yet?
A jealous rage has gripped me ever since the more dependable truck took up residence at Camp J. Most of my peers own vehicles equipped with magic boxes they call GPS. I had none. Action was required.
It is one of the large, heavy old Airguides with many good features. The only bad one is the difficulty of mounting without drilling ugly holes in the more dependable dash board. That is temporarily solved with gaffer's tape. The primary delights are: (1) Absence of a shrill old crone yelling at me to turn right or left or park the SOB and go back to driver's ed. (2) Knowledge that the satellite where the magical Turn-Left-NOW! witch lives will likely fall from the sky before Gentle Gaea changes her magnetic corset.
---
It is possible to go too far in adapting perfectly good retrotechnology to land-borne vessels. But it would be fun to try.
It is one of the large, heavy old Airguides with many good features. The only bad one is the difficulty of mounting without drilling ugly holes in the more dependable dash board. That is temporarily solved with gaffer's tape. The primary delights are: (1) Absence of a shrill old crone yelling at me to turn right or left or park the SOB and go back to driver's ed. (2) Knowledge that the satellite where the magical Turn-Left-NOW! witch lives will likely fall from the sky before Gentle Gaea changes her magnetic corset.
---
It is possible to go too far in adapting perfectly good retrotechnology to land-borne vessels. But it would be fun to try.
Yes, THAT Kelvin.
For precise navigation, of course, a speed input is necessary.
Still, I am willing to concede that the bitch in the electronic box arranges for my buddies to get lost with far greater precision than is possible for me. For instance, there was this time in Sioux Falls when my pal followed her directions to the digital letter en route to a big loophole festival. We ended near a sheep pen, in a Superfund site I think, not too far from the state prison. There were no guns to loophole in the immediate area, but we knew within three yards just where we were. Lost. At.
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