Small Stuff

Just a nit, but worth a mention… My neighbor across the way got out and began mowing his lawn at precisely 0700 this morning. Sunday morning. I think that’s rude and inconsiderate. It’s the noise, Gentle Reader. Power mowers are loud and their sound is obnoxious at all times, but on Sunday morning it’s particularly so, especially in an environment where residents live in close quarters. I say this with the full understanding that it’s much easier to mow the lawn when it’s 68 degrees outside, vice 85 and up. But couldn’t you wait until 0830, say? I think you could.

Oh…I had been up since 0500, so the noise didn’t awaken me. Irritate me, yes. Wake me up? If it had been yesterday, yes. But not today.

On nerds…in today’s NYT (Who’s a Nerd, Anyway?):

By cultivating an identity perceived as white to the point of excess, nerds deny themselves the aura of normality that is usually one of the perks of being white. Bucholtz sees something to admire here. In declining to appropriate African-American youth culture, thereby “refusing to exercise the racial privilege upon which white youth cultures are founded,” she writes, nerds may even be viewed as “traitors to whiteness.” You might say they know that a culture based on theft is a culture not worth having. On the other hand, the code of conspicuous intellectualism in the nerd cliques Bucholtz observed may shut out “black students who chose not to openly display their abilities.” This is especially disturbing at a time when African-American students can be stigmatized by other African-American students if they’re too obviously diligent about school. Even more problematic, “Nerds’ dismissal of black cultural practices often led them to discount the possibility of friendship with black students,” even if the nerds were involved in political activities like protesting against the dismantling of affirmative action in California schools. If nerdiness, as Bucholtz suggests, can be a rebellion against the cool white kids and their use of black culture, it’s a rebellion with a limited membership.

Cue up the Geico caveman, please. To wit: “Yeah, I’ve got a response… uh … WHAT?”

It’s WAR! Normally I’m a live-and-let-live kinda guy, and my tolerance extends to creatures great and small. Included in the “small” community are various bugs, with the exception of flies and mosquitoes, which are terminated immediately with extreme prejudice…always. Take spiders, for example. Spiders are generally good, as they eat other small critters and generally stay out of my way. And I enjoy their webs, which are both small-scale engineering feats and supremely artistic, as well…as anyone who’s seen an early morning web covered in sparkling dew will attest.

My tolerance ends, though, when spiders begin to overwhelm my personal space and get presumptuous about territory and such, thinking it’s theirs for the taking. While I love and appreciate outdoor webs I don’t like to see the things hanging off my table lamp, or worse, have a small spider drop down on a gossamer filament right in front of my face while I’m surfing the other web (heh). And that’s just in the front of the house. Things get worse, much worse, as you move to the rear of El Casa Móvil De Pennington. Lately I’ve been involved in a daily ritual that involves wiping away webs that have been spun overnight in both the bathroom and the kitchen, and the spiders have become so numerous that they’re scurrying around in plain sight. It’s time for a new strategy: we’re gonna surge.

It appears that GHQ Arachnid is located in the bathroom. Yesterday I took extreme measures on the HQ… emptying both bathroom cabinets, thoroughly cleaning out the spaces, and finishing off by liberally spraying the interiors of both cabinets and the surrounding baseboards with Raid. Result: no webs in the bathroom this morning. The kitchen will be a little more problematic because I don’t want to engage in unrestricted chemical warfare in that operational area. The risk of collateral damage (to YrHmblScrb, hisownself) is just too high. So we’ll just content ourselves with applying forceful thumb pressure on the little terrorists as they transit from nook to cranny. And waging chemical warfare along the baseboards and other spaces in the kitchen where the risk of collateral damage is low.

We have evidence the surge is working, as noted above. There will be NO political settlement, and we’ll take no prisoners. All I’m asking is a return to the status quo ante, or in other words, if the spiders stay in their space, I’ll stay in mine.

Peace in our time.

Today’s Pic: A rather cheeky-looking SN3 in a restaurant on San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf. We were just finishing lunch and getting ready to go on a cruise around the Bay. And the following transpired as we were getting off the boat, after said Bay cruise:

Me: Well, what didja think?
SN3: It was kinda boring, Dad.
Me: (Dumbstruck silence, followed by a change of subject…)

June, 2002. (SN3 was five years old.)

Is It Wednesday? Already?

The “Two-State Solution,” Palestinian style… From the Jerusalem Post:

A sign of Fatah's predicament in the Gaza Strip was illustrated late Monday night when its leaders announced a unilateral cease-fire, only to be snubbed by Hamas. Fatah leaders also made urgent appeals to a number of Arab governments to interfere to stop the fighting, but their calls have fallen on deaf ears. The Egyptians, Saudis and Jordanians - who have, until now, been making huge efforts to end the anarchy in the Palestinian areas - are all fed up with the Palestinians.

Unless the fighting stops in the next day or two, the entire Gaza Strip is likely to fall into the hands of Hamas. All Fatah can do now is vent its anger at the remaining handful of Hamas representatives in the West Bank. The majority of the Hamas leaders in the West Bank are in Israeli jails and the Islamic movement does not have a strong military presence there.

[…]

One of the options facing Abbas is to break up the coalition partnership with Hamas and to officially declare war on the Islamic movement.

Whatever decision Abbas and his Fatah lieutenants take, it will be hard to change the new reality that has been created on the ground, especially in the Gaza Strip. As of today, the Palestinians can boast that they have two entities - one in the Gaza Strip run by Muslim fundamentalists and another one in the West Bank under the control of secular Fatah leaders.

"The two-state solution has finally worked," a Palestinian journalist in the Gaza Strip commented sarcastically. "Today, all our enemies have good reason to celebrate."

There are lots of interesting points in the referenced article, not the least of which is the claim the rest of the Arabs are “fed up” with the Palestinians and appear to be content with letting Gaza slide into full-blown civil war. The second interesting point, to me, is Abbas’ failure to grasp that the issue has already been forced by Hamas. It appears Hamas has absolutely NO intention of trying to compromise with Fatah, and one wonders what alternate reality Abbas is living in if he really thinks he can come to an accommodation with Hamas. And the third interesting point (from my POV, once again) is that the West was fully justified in withholding aid and support from the Hamas-dominated government. One can only imagine what sort of Hell would have eventually erupted if Hamas had had access to funds to more completely arm its militias. It’s obviously bad enough in Gaza, but it’s not too far beyond the pale to imagine the same sort of scenario breaking out in the West Bank, as well. Not that Israel would have let that happen…but the “what-if” scenarios involving a fully-funded Hamas government are numerous and universally bad.

Looks pretty damned bad.

The NYT has more, as does Captain Ed and The Belmont Club.

In today’s “More Preaching to the Choir” department, there’s this from the WSJ’s Opinion Journal: “Terrorists Don’t Like Art.” The lede grafs:

BAGHDAD, Iraq--Among the agonies imposed on Baghdad by tormentors in the guise of self-appointed religious enforcers is the proscription of fun. Novelty, convenience, any kind of post-Quranic ease from hardship infuriates them. Ice cream is an abomination, as is mechanized garbage collection, because such delights didn't exist in the time of the prophet. A story is told that last year, on a road overtaken by jihadis, a DVD purveyor was ordered to close because DVDs didn't exist in the time of the prophet. "Neither did the BMW you drove up in," he responded. "When you come back and tell me again on a camel, then I'll listen." They shot him some days later, for his insolence.

Imagine, therefore, the onus of courage on anyone who dares open an art gallery, let alone keeps it running since January 2006 with 26 shows and as many receptions. Such a place exists: Madarat, the last active gallery in Baghdad, just up a side road next to the Turkish Embassy in the Waziriya district near the city center. Imagine the risks involved for patrons attending an opening--how to get there safely, and then how long to stay en bloc as a provocative target, even how much precious gas to use up for art's sake. We decided to go on a quiet day at the gallery, inconspicuously and with minimal protection, hoping to sneak through town unnoticed. I was accompanied by Karima, a sculptor of ceramics who knew the place. Just to be visible in the back seat of a car with a woman offers provocation enough in many neighborhoods--Karima made the throat-cutting gesture as illustration--so we took a circuitous route to improve our chances.

Good stuff. I think you’ll like it, Gentle Reader.

So. I’ve had this project on the back-burner for nearly a week now, and the weather isn’t cooperating one whit. The project? Restore the Green Hornet to her former glistening, gleaming, pristine state of glossy goodness. Last week I bought a tube of Meguiar’s “Scratch-X” (to take out those annoying swirl marks in the clear-coat), a brand-new tin of Meguiar’s Gold-Class paste wax, and enough fresh new terry toweling and polishing bonnets to completely envelop a two-story building. All for naught, so far. First there was all that rain I alluded to last week and even commented on at length in places. There’s no rain in the forecast today, but the wind is up and airborne dust is anathema to waxing a vehicle…for obvious reasons. After I do the Hornet I plan to do the ‘Zuki, too. Assuming my motivation holds in the face of uncooperative weather. And that’s beginning to look rather dicey, at the moment.

I hate it when this happens.

Today’s Pic: Another shot of SN3, me, and My Favorite Blue Motorized Conveyance. Just prior to taking off for the back roads in Colorado’s beautiful Front Range.

May 20, 2007. Fort Collins, CO.

A Photo Essay

1. Peruse
2. Sample
3. Select
4. Order (two pints of beer [each] AND excellent food)
5. Enjoy

Result: Two Happy Campers.

Rooster's. Layton, Utah
Sunday, 5-27-2007

Late Night Blogging

Just a few more pics—this time from Fort Collins.

The second pic is The Second Mrs. Pennington and SN3, taken at a motorcycle shop in Fort Collins. We arranged to meet at the bike store on Friday morning in order to appropriately outfit SN3 for riding. TSMP did her part by buying SN3 a new pair of heavy duty boots and ensuring he had heavy pants…jeans, in this case…suitable for riding. My end of the bargain was getting Bobby a helmet, and I also bought him a motorcycle jacket since I wasn’t satisfied with the one TSMP brought along. Bobby was quite taken with his new helmet and pretty much insisted on wearing it all the time... so much so that it was hard to get a picture of him during our brief visit without the helmet.

The third and fourth pics were taken in the motel parking lot before we left on our ride out into the Colorado countryside on Sunday. The first parking lot pic is SN1 and SN3; the second is me and SN3. The first pic in this series is a head shot of SN3 taken during our ride.

Bobby is a good rider. He took my safety instructions to heart and behaved well on the bike. It turned out he enjoyed riding on Buck’s bike more than he did on the ‘Zuki, but that was because the passenger's portion of the seat on Buck’s bike is quite a bit narrower than mine and fit Bobby's smaller…uh…anatomy better than the wider seat on the ‘Zuki.

I’m not quite sure Bobby’s completely sold on the idea of motorcycling, but then again, he’s only experienced riding as a passenger, and not as the guy in control. There’s a big, big difference… I don’t particularly enjoy riding as a passenger, either... but Dang! do I ever love to "drive!"

A Quick Update

So. Hanging out with SN3 is pretty cool, to say the least. The day has been fairly low and slow, and that's OK with me. We've not gone for an extended ride today. As a matter of fact we only rode from the bike shop back to the hotel...a distance of about four miles, and that was it. As I told The Second Mrs. Pennington last night: I didn't even want to look at the 'Zuki today, let alone do any extended riding. She replied that Bobby probably didn't care, and that has been the case. And I'm glad. There will be plenty of time for riding tomorrow and Sunday...especially Sunday, when SN1 is here with his new Kowalski.

Some random notes...

I don't like composing in the Blogger "post" window. It takes time for me to organize my thoughts and edit...and I don't get that when using the "create" window in Blogger. So forgive me if this post seems sorta disorganized and rambling, more so than usual. I sure do miss my very own PC. And MS-Word. And I can't post pictures using this public workstation in the Courtyard... of which there are more than a few that were taken today.

In the "It Happens Every Time" Department: Whenever I leave P-Town I always, without exception, wonder just why it is that I stay in Portales. Case in point: SN3 and I walked to Safeway late this morning. I left home without packing my razor and needed to buy one, which will be the third Gillette Mach III in my personal inventory (I always forget my razor. What does this mean?). But I digress. The local Safeway, while not an equal to Wegmans (for instance), is pretty danged cool. There's a Starbucks on the premises, a full-service deli (with sushi!), a sandwich shop that goes beyond the term "sandwich shop," and so on and so forth. So: We had lunch at Safeway, I got my (belated) Starbucks fix, and life was good. Just can't do that at home.

I mentioned this to SN3 (e.g., "Why do I stay in Portales?") and he replied: "Because you don't like snow." Good point. The best, actually.

Out of the Mouths of Babes Dept: A brief conversation. The setting: outside of Safeway at an al fresco dining table. Eating lunch and watching the people come and go, especially the women.

SN3: (Something)
Me: What? I was distracted.
SN3: Distracted?
Me: Yeah, sorry. I was looking at that girl.
SN3: You were looking at chicks.
Me: Well, yeah, but more than chicks, Bob-O. Women. It's one of life's greatest pleasures.
SN3: But isn't that double-crossing Mom?
Me: What?
SN3: Double-crossing Mom by looking at other women.
Me: I don't get it.
SN3: I think you're in love with Mom, so you shouldn't be looking at other women.
Me: You're half right. Let's change the subject, 'K?

Interesting logic, and an implementation of a blatant double-standard! The conversation above may not be verbatim, but it's damned close. I was stunned...to say the least.

And I'll leave it at that. We're off to dinner as soon as I hit "post." Bobby has never eaten Italian food and there's an interesting looking Italian place just around the corner from the Courtyard.

More tomorrow.

Mostly Good News...Especially On the Hockey Front!

Justice prevails…according to Eric Duhatschek at The Toronto Globe and Mail:

SAN JOSE — Sometimes, justice can prevail, even in the fickle and occasionally unfair world of professional sport.

The Detroit Red Wings were 34 seconds away from falling into a 3-1 series hole to the San Jose Sharks Wednesday night. Despite dominating the play virtually all night, the Red Wings couldn't find an answer to Sharks' goaltender Evgeni Nabokov, who stopped 35 of the first 36 shots he faced in regulation and had his team seconds away from victory.

But a breakdown in defensive coverage in the final minute, with Red Wings' goaltender Dominik Hasek on the bench for an extra attacker, led to Robert Lang's tying goal on their 37th shot. Lang's shot squeezed under Nabokov's arm after defenceman Craig Rivet permitted him to close to within 20 feet of the net.

In overtime, Mathieu Schneider then capped the rally, scoring his first of the series on a power play to give the Red Wings a 3-2 come-from-behind victory. That win squared the series at two games apiece, with Game 5 scheduled for Saturday afternoon in Detroit.

It’s a standard hockey tactic…you’re down by a goal (or two) in the last minute of the game, your goalie skates to the bench and you add an extra attacker. Your six skaters then assault the opponent’s net in frantic desperation, shooting the puck at every opportunity. More often than not, this tactic usually results in your opponent either beating back your attack, or worse, scoring into your open net and winning the game. But last night? Justice!! Robert Lang, as noted above, ties the game in the final seconds and Mathieu Schneider gets the winner at 16:04 in the overtime period.

So. It’s another best two-out-of-three series. Let’s hope this one turns out the same as the last…

(photo credit: AP)

Daniel Henninger has a great rant in the WSJ today about my absolute favorite bugaboo: Political Correctness:

Don Imus, Bernard McGuirk, Trent Lott, Larry Summers, the Duke lacrosse team, Jimmy the Greek, the kid who yelled "water buffalo" at Penn, Howard Cosell, Jon Stewart, Chief Illiniwek, Jackie Mason and "South Park" all have in common only one thing: They have not been Politically Correct.

Some were brought down by it, and some have made a living from it. Today, there are people who even say that the satire on shows such as "South Park" or the "Daily Show" have made political correctness a harmless amusement. We have become so cool that we can simultaneously abide PC's merciless strictures against saying the wrong things about the right people even as we laugh at our subjugation to PC.

Despite the ironic mockery, political correctness still packs a punch. Say the wrong thing today and you can be gone tomorrow, your status as a top broadcaster, university president or politician obliterated. It happens in the small space of a sentence--defrocked, banished, gonzo. Outside a courtroom, I'm not aware of many other forces in American life that can do that.

“…still packs a punch” has got to be the understatement of the day. I’m of the opinion that Political Correctness is perhaps the biggest of the “little threats” we face as a culture. Political Correctness is insidious because it instructs us in “pure thought” and exacts harsh penalties should we not comply with the prescribed positions of “right-thinking” people. The phenomenon, while bad enough for us plodders at the bottom layers of the food chain, gets unbearably worse the higher up the ladder one climbs, in any endeavor. The end result is our leaders in government and business, as well as our cultural movers and shakers, are effectively—oh-so-effectively!—muzzled. It’s a rare, rare thing to hear someone in a position of power actually “speak his mind” these days; Group Think rules the roost. The PC phenomenon has cost us a lot…and yet I cannot see what benefits actually accrue from being PC, other than approving nods from our friends on the Left and a general dumbing-down of the culture.

Can anyone show me something—anything—good about Political Correctness? I’m all ears…enlighten me!

Ahhh..so this is why I felt compelled to post pictures of my scratched fairing…

Professor Crozier defines embarrassment as when we accidentally "contradict the identity we want to project, leaving a quite disabling sense of being exposed".

And the car-crash moment when it happens is like a "little death" - everything seems to stop, time seems to stand still and we talk about being "frozen" or "dying of embarrassment" or being "mortified".

But what do we do when it happens, and how best to recover?

"The best way to deal with embarrassment is to talk about it," says workplace psychologist Gary Fitzgibbon. "If you skulk off, you're left with it. You mustn't let the embarrassment dominate."

Once you admit to what's happened and talk about it, everyone will feel much more relaxed and they'll be laughing with you rather than at you.

I just wanted all y’all to laugh with me, rather than at me. Even though you would have never known about my pratfall had I not posted. Unless you were one of those 15 people in that San Jon parking lot when I “contradict(ed) the identity we (I) want to project.” Fat chance, that. But go ahead…you can laugh. It’s OK.

Our weather certainly was miserable yesterday, but not catastrophic as Spring weather can be. No, it was just gray, dull, and rainy for nearly the entire day. A perfect sort of day to “take it easy,” which I did…in spades. And, digressing as is my habit, I apparently did myself some good, too, as my back pain has greatly diminished this morning. I’m “cautiously optimistic,” as they say. This thing is beginning to resemble a strained muscle much more than a herniated disk. Thank You, Lord!!

But back to the weather…clear blue skies, light winds, and a temp of 64…on its way to a forecasted 86 wonderful degrees. Perfect you-know-what weather. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll give my back one more day or if I’ll go out and swing a leg over the bike. Too soon to tell.

Today’s Pic: While yesterday’s weather sucked, the day before was absolutely brilliant even if I wasn’t feeling quite that way myself. Every so often I take an “inventory” shot of El Casa Móvil De Pennington in its natural surroundings, and today’s pic is one such shot. If you look closely you can see the neck of a Fat Tire bottle sticking up out of the cup holder on my chair. That was strictly “for medicinal purposes only,” Gentle Reader, and it helped. Oh, yes. It did.

May Day afternoon. On the outskirts of P-Town.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, one that promises to be quite warm (83 is the forecast), bright, sunny, and just slightly breezy. The last bit is the best bit. More often than not our best days are marred by gale-force winds. Today? Not so much. At least according to the forecast. We’ll see.

So. The best thing to do with a day like today is to get out in it. The coffee has been drunk, the rounds have been made, and I’ll report there are no outrages in the offing. None here, anyway. Too nice a day to be outraged.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day to the Irish, the Irish-Americans, and Irish wanna-bees. All y’all be careful out there and go easy on the green beer, if you’ve a mind to do that sort of thing. I’ll raise a glass today, but the contents will not be green. Sacrilege!