Ch’ Ch’ Changes…..(Bowie)

“The only constant is change”. (Heraclitus)

Change: Unstable, erratic capricious……..(Wikipedia)

Judging from the above quotes, it might seem as if I am heavily invested in spare and loose change. And I am. I like change but I like good change more than bad. But change that is ‘meh’ is not really change. Or is it? And it is about that oxymoron that I am writing. The change that has been coming along so far is NOT good, not bad, mostly ‘meh’ but it is still coming.

Where are we headed?

Societal and global change is clearly still afoot these days and yet it seems like nothing is really moving in any predictable direction – neither good nor bad….but, to be honest, clearly more bad than good lately…. The metaphorical mental image: flooded farmlands, floating debris, bloated cows, muddy waters.

Covid did that. The world was (as usual) evolving higgledy-piggledy and then went into Covid induced shock. Now we are all in half-quarantine waiting on late arrival vaccinations while making no plans whatsoever. Stultifying, coma-inducing, quiet frustration, what-the-hell are words that come to mind.

And that is all being reported somewhat in the news but it is that which is unreported that makes it so confusing. We have the usual upheaval and chaos from the over-sensational media-news, of course, and yet, that all seems even more repetitious, typical, boring and somehow normal all at the same time. But I think there is more. What are they NOT saying?

In other words; my feelings are that we are seeing all there is to see and yet I feel there is more that is ‘in the dark’. That hunch seems kinda contradictory – for me, anyway.

Maybe…could just be…… that our relied-on (hoary, old) institutions are simply under assault and/or are constantly dropping the ball (ergo, we lose faith in the system), the economy is even more mysterious than usual (so our fear levels increase), and then there is the rapidly altering climate and the eroded natural environment which also affects my behavior, feelings, moods and character (an impending sense of doom). Maybe the change I am feeling is more like rust-on-steel….gradual erosion….a slow downhill? I don’t know.

OR, it could JUST be the rather pronounced, personal and noticeable effects of the aging process that is sorta omnipresent to me now. Those personal things ARE changing, too, and yet those things have been slowly happening for some time (the very definition of aging). So, it kinda remains the same.

Put another way: I am currently in a state of flux but without any real major, mile-marker changes happening in my life to warrant that feeling.

I am also saying that I am more-than-used to (and need) a certain amount of real change in my life (it has been a constant roller coaster ride after all) and I know that the world changes even more than I do….but, but, but….there have been no really GOOD big changes for me lately – which is also somewhat good, I guess. It means my status quo is safe. But there have been none that feel rewarding or educational or even intriguing to me, either. No good news makes Dave a dull boy (mangled metaphor courtesy of Sally).

Well, the slow, drip-drip-drip of aging is probably the most obvious and yet the most common and predictable form of change in my life right now. And aging is intriguing…I have to admit that! Fun? Not so much.

And we are obviously having fewer adventures because of the Covid-quo-ness, too. I think that is a large part of it. No adventure. No new encounters. No travel. All that leaves a big hole…..

Sal and I have been the very epitome of living some kind of regular status quo this past year due to Covid and the aforementioned aging process (and my increasing loathing of air travel). For us, that is odd, to say the least. Being normal just isn’t normal for us. We just do not get out very much anymore. We stay at home now. And, in the winter when it is cold and wet outside, we even stay in Canada and more and more inside the house on computers or quilting or maybe making dinner together. It’s nice, it’s normal but, well…….ya know? It ain’t exciting.

It turns out that my biggest challenge in whatever kind of change era we are all currently in is learning how to relax and stay put! That is not easy for me. I have grown this singular dorky character into one that needs the irregular, the odd surprise, the lack of routine and the ‘new adventure’. Mental image: driving Sal around Thailand on a scooter. WooHooo!!!

Getting old means I need radical change less and less but I still need some real surprises, small adventures, doable challenges. I am still restless by nature but without the youthful energy that used to cause it. This is a new kind of flux state I am in these days…..sorta like the sentiment of being all dressed up with but nowhere to go….. I am getting all stressed up but with no energy or focus on what to do about it. What is causing that? Is it just Covid? Is it just aging? I do not know……..

I still have, of course, the necessary chores to keep me from the silent madness of real bushed-out, cabin-fever-style boredom (I hope) but well, it’s pretty cold outside right now…..not conducive to getting anything significant done……and I will avoid making a winter martyr of myself just for the sake of warding off the cobwebs and lethargy of indolence. Hibernating may seem kinda silly but it is better than catching pneumonia or breaking into a sweat during a snow storm while bleeding from an errant chainsaw, ya know? Aging gently and boringly seems kinda good compared to that!

Moderation in all things? But moderation SHOULD include a few surprises, too, right?

Truth? I think I am mostly in need of sunny days, blooming gardens, more wildlife and a great, wonderful Springtime. I think maybe we are all a bit overdue.

Cabin fever? Bushed?

Little things seem to matter more when you are isolated, remote, cold and ‘in the dark’. And it is usually raining to boot. But which of the little things matter most vary from person to person. For me, it is not being able to or even wanting to do all my little projects. Without projects, I am bored. When bored, I tend to hibernate (read: nap). So, to compensate for the lethargy, I kinda ‘make indoor projects’ but I am not allowed to ‘make a mess’ except in the kitchen. So, I have been exploring recipes lately. Thanks to JA, I am now thinking of curried cauliflower…….

………clearly, I am getting whacked. It might even be (gasp) cabin fever. I might be bushed. When cauliflower becomes my focus, I am obviously spiraling into madness. Maybe with cheese sauce?

Sal has healthier and better outlets for her season-stifled energies. The biggest one, of course, is that a ‘woman’s work is never done’ and so housekeeping is part of the therapy for her. And then there is quilting, book-club, community work and the incredible burden of living with me. That woman carries a load!

And, from all of that, manifested her recent whackedness. Today, she went to town. Going to town almost felt like an adventure, a foray into the Covid wilderness for her. Felt a smidge like abandonment to me. I was not invited. But really, tho? Sal just needed to bust out. Mostly, it was because she was out of scotch. A woman can only suffer cabin fever quietly for so long!

She ran out of scotch last night. She was in the boat heading to town early this morning.

I am mostly just teasing. She had other reasons to go to town…….she was getting low on chocolate, too. But the biggest reason she admitted to was “I need a haircut!”

“No, you don’t, sweetie. Your hair looks great!”

“You don’t understand. I NEED a haircut!”

“Is that some kind of euphemism? You flirting?”

“No, you idiot! It means my hair is too long and I need to cut it!”

“No problem. I’ll cut it. Tell me what you want and I’ll get the trimmer and whack away until you tell me to stop.”

“There is no way in hell you are cutting my hair. That is just plain weird. Creepy, actually. Ooooh, my skin is crawling just thinking about it, you perv.”

“Sal, it is just a haircut! Mind you, I WAS going to dress up like a stylist and mince about….”

She was headed for town within minutes of that conversation. Seems one of us is getting a bit bushed.

Wood

There was a great big landslide during the last few days of November, 2020, in a not-so-far-away neighbourhood near us. A chunk of Bute Inlet was washed into the sea by a wall of water that started as a naturally dammed glacial lake that blew it’s banks and spilled over to join a storm-swollen river. That engorged ‘new’ river raced down hill and took half a mountain with it. A pretty massive amount of devastation resulted almost instantly.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is bute-slide-ii.png
Photo: National Observer

But it is a bad landslide that does not sweep somebody some good even if the overall effect was pretty damn bad. The forest there was erased. The salmon habitat suffered. The normal delta area there was suffocated under the slide. A cottage or two was swept away and the sea was virtually unnavigable for miles around because of the ‘debris’.

Image: Hakai Institute

But the debris was not just mud and smashed trees. It included hundreds of good, healthy, assorted-sized trees as well. Put another way, next winter’s firewood was then just floating around for the picking. And so some of us went a’picking.

Well, to be more honest, we just sat at home and watched in amazement as the natural bounty was swept hither and yon all through the region and we are right in the middle of yon. There were trees everywhere!

I have suggested in prior blogs that my wife is a bit of a nut but nothing illustrates her quirks quite so much as when she comes across bounty. She can get ‘hooked’. I once had to physically pick her up and carry her to the vehicle begging for more ‘sifting’ time when we had stopped to try washing sugar garnets from a roadside tourist trap. The kids and I had enjoyed the process for 20 minutes or so but an hour later, Sal was still saying, “Just one more bucket of sand, just one more!”

She is much the same way with Roger’s chocolates and, surprisingly, she is also a driven and obsessed log-aholic. She kept shrieking, “Oooh, look at that log! Another good one. C’mon, let’s go!”

“Sweetheart, we already have a lagoon full of logs. We have half the hill strewn with logs. And we have a bunch tied up and floating near the dock. We have no more room, no more rope, no more log dogs and, quite frankly, I think we are starting the 2023 winter wood pile already! We do not need anymore logs.”

“I know. I know. But, it’s like free money in the bank (she tends to garble her metaphors a smidge) and they are just sitting there! I need to get some. I need ’em. C’mon! Just one more…..maybe two. And yellow cedar doesn’t count!” Translation: by exempting yellow cedar, she was basically saying, ‘Let’s get a couple fir or Hemlock and then hunt all day long for yellow cedar ’cause they don’t count.’

‘Money in the Bank!’

Suffice it to say, we got in some wood this winter.

Friends, eh?

I have friends from all over the world, spanning all the generations and even all the genders! I have no real idea how I get these friends but their having ‘character’ and ‘personality’ has to be the largest part of it. If there is a real human being in there, I am interested in knowing them.

A filter is not really applied to them – they only have to be interesting and the potential for friendship exists for me. No, the filter is really on me. Many of those perceived-as-interesting people do not find as much interest in me. That is what keeps the numbers down. But when the two ‘potentials’ get together and there is mutual interest…voila…the seeds of friendship are sown.

No, I am not a open-hearted Pollyanna who loves everybody. The seeds can be sown and even sprout but still the friendship might not flourish…but there would need to be a real poison for it to die too easily. I give the seeds a chance.

I mention this because my criteria for friendship does not involve social status, nearby proximity, frequency of encounters, skin colour, religion, gender, employment, skills or abilities, wealth or good looks. It does, however, include a bit of a political bias. I cannot be friends with Nazis, Fascists, fanatics, extremists or Trump supporters. I try. It just doesn’t work.

Having said that, I actually do have a few friends who are Trump supporters. All I can say is. “Well, geez, they may be nuttier than the clientele of London’s Bethlehem Royal Hospital (aka: Bedlam) but these ones are definitely pretty interesting.”

And so I am in contact with a few nuts now and then (Yep…’Merican and Canukleheads). And they with me. One wrote last night.

“Dear Dave,
None of this (the Biden Inauguration, Trump departure, Capitol Hill), is going to be too relevant in a few days. The discussion is going to be moving into
international crimes of high treason (much more serious crimes will be exposed).
Please tell people you care about not to travel, especially to the US, the next few days. I wasn’t sure, but am pretty certain now: Joe Biden will NOT be taking office as next US President.
He will soon be facing a military style tribunal, similar to the Nuremburg Trials after WW2 (along with hundreds of other traitors from the US govt. Perhaps not if he chooses to cooperate?).
Sorry if that is disappointing to you? We do not want to be taken over by Communist China.
We “muricans” are weird that way, at least the actual voting majority of us (including our military…).
While I share their sentiment, I’m really only an observer to history here.
I wish your own country’s politicians the same wisdom of choice.

My friend is warning me and you NOT to go to the US over the next few days (Trumpers are also somewhat unheeding of Covid protocols so he may not be familiar with our travel restrictions since they do not have any). He is warning of violence. He is predicting a trial will be soon held for ‘criminals’ in the US government who have committed high treason. He states that Biden will not serve as president. And, of course, he defends all that as patriotic intent and defending the nation against Communism.

We could argue all that, of course, but to do so would be to miss the point. The point is he believes what he is saying, he is not an instigator nor a participant and he wants me and mine to be safe. But more to the point, he is telling me what he is reading on his alt-right media sources. My guy is predicting – somehow – the stopping of the inauguration of Biden, a dangerous period of a few days, a speedy trial of hundreds and participation of the military or, at the very least, by the self-styled military that dresses the part.

My guy is predicting ‘events’ around the nation over the next few days that will include military action and trials and no Joe Biden. No Kamala Harris. No peaceful transfer.

Yes, you and I are thinking the same thing: they plan the installment of Trump as king.

“Dave! That’s nuts! Never gonna happen. Surely you do not believe him?”

No, I don’t. I agree with you. Not gonna happen. But if an old guy, generally sane (except for the conspiracy theories and alt-right nuttiness), steeped in alt-right readings and media is warning me away from visiting out of concern for me, I have to listen. I do not have to believe, but I have to listen. My guy is not alone. My guy is part of a very large movement or belief system that has plans and designs on the very structure of his country. This guy is quietly supporting the insurrection of the USA and the installation of a tyrant as leader. This guy has traded his country for a red hat. And he has 70M who lean the same way and maybe a third who are not just leaning but are, in fact, kitting up to make that happen.

Am I afraid because of our proximity to the US? No. Not over this. This is just stupid-on-steroids. But I am afraid for the black and immigrant community to some extent. I am afraid for the safety of some dumb-cracker in uniform or worse, a dumber guy in militia garb hurting each other. I am afraid for the longer term effects of this divisive virus in US society. I am afraid of the police swinging the wrong way and becoming even more brutal with people. I am afraid of what Trump called American Carnage – something he envisioned four years ago and is on the brink of achieving.

Bottom line: I am not traveling to the US anytime soon. Maybe never.


Learning from our Ravens! And squawking at DFO!!

As you all know, we have wildlife all around us but the most prominent for us are the ravens. Raven couple #1, Jack and Liz, left a year or so ago and then the two newbies moved in. They are pretty young, need some learning and experience but, just as important, they need to grow….physically. They came to us like thin, small teens and we are starting to see them ‘fill out’ a bit. Ol’ Jack was huge. Liz remained slim but she was long and slim and so the two of them filled some significant air space. And they had attitude! The newbies don’t really have much presence and it is weirdly evident in the role or status they lack or enjoy depending on the circumstances.

Jack and Liz swaggered around walking into a crowd of sea-gulls as if they owned the place and the gulls would part like the Red Sea and immediately acknowledge Jack’s rule. They were all polite and deferential to both Jack and Liz but they were actually afraid of Jack. Today, those same sea-gulls harass the newbies and steal their food. The new ravens just don’t have the same standing.

Things are slowly changing…. This past week, the ravens and the gulls have upped their aggressions on each other and it seems like the ravens are starting to make their beaks known. The skirmishes are still relatively benign but the ravens are now acting the equal of the gulls and, remember, there are always more gulls so the Newbie twosome are asserting their position outnumbered. It is no coincidence that they are also appearing a smidge bigger these days.

Recently the Newbies went nuts on an owl. We rarely see owls out here but the other day a very large horned owl was sitting almost invisibly in a tree. But he was visible enough to the ravens and they went after the owl as if he were the devil himself! Holeee…

The owl handled it all very well. Like the eagles, he basically just ignored the ravens but, to be more accurate, he also did not take to the air. Instead, he stood with his back to a tree trunk and simply owl-eyed their ongoing and aggressive antics. That went on long enough for us to ‘oooh’ and ‘aaaah’ and also to remember our camera.

Can you see the owl?

As for the DFO….those fine fellows in uniform on the half-million dollar boat I mentioned the other day? They paid us a visit back then and informed us that the rules re prawning have changed and that they were up in this neck of the woods confiscating offender’s traps. Sorta like seagulls on weaker birds. Classic stupid DFO. We told them we’d warn the locals of the rule change. The other day we went up to get the visiting doctor and take him back to the other island to his vehicle. But, as we left the island, I saw a boat way out there and thought I’d better warn them of the patrolling DFO and the new rule. So, off we went only to discover it was, in fact, the DFO boat I was going to warn. We said hello as they came out of their cabin to greet us – likely wondering what were doing. “Well, guys, your boat is so stealthy we didn’t know it was you until we got here. But, basically, we are here to warn you about you!”

They laughed. We went about our doctor-taxi effort but, after we dropped him at the community dock, we noticed that the DFO vessel was heading off station. They came up, floated about (same four crew) for awhile and then when ‘outed’, decided that they may as well go home.

We like to think we asserted our territory and we chased ’em off. Caw, caw!

I was wrong!

As you know, I saw the Capitol riot as more of an accident of somewhat predictable circumstance. For the actual mob participants, it was just a confluence in madness erupting almost spontaneously and, generally, just a very messy political rally made bad by a few rotten apples. I attributed to them the desire for Selfie-based fame on You-Tube and social media as much as anything else. I did not attribute insurrection or rebellion except on, perhaps, a few individuals accidentally, circumstantially acting together ‘in-the-moment’. I did NOT see a plan. I did NOT see organization and, in fact, I did NOT see a clearly defined mission or goal for the mob at all. In fact, I saw it much as many dumb Bubbas who were there claiming. “Hey, I was just there to rally for Trump. I did not charge, destroy or hurt anything or anybody.”

Fiona Hill of Politico has a different point of view and I think she is right. Here it is:

https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2021/01/11/capitol-riot-self-coup-trump-fiona-hill-457549

For those not willing to read the article: Hill contends that the riot was simply one of many steps taken by Trump over the years aimed entirely at insurrection. She outlines why the riot was ‘just a step’ along a planned and strategic assault on US Democracy. I may be right about the number of idiots that were manipulated and I may even be right that it was more of a circumstantial event than a truly subversive one but I am wrong in inferring/implying it was all an accident of Selfie-ism or just a one-off event. I even said it was NOT a step in the Art of War tradition.

Well, that part was definitely wrong. It seems it was, indeed, a planned step. Maybe not the puppet-monkeys running around with horns on their head but it was quite clearly part of a despot’s attempt at a coup. Trump planned all that! I honestly didn’t think he had the brains.

Hill thinks he does. Now, after reading her, so do I.

The real lesson: do not get your opinions from social media idiots like me.

PS. Turns out I was wrong (as stated above)…..and I was right! First off: from the latest news reports, there WAS more organization than I had previously thought. On the other hand, some ‘military experts’ have stated that those in the main showed no military training and those who were all camo’d up and looking good for the camera only showed they knew nothing of real tactical skills, training or even understanding. Conclusion/speculation? The vast majority were YOU-TUBE wannabes and selfie-addicts but the riot dynamics was planned by GOP ‘enablers’ and TRUMP-ists to look as if it ‘organically happened’.

I hate……

….fishing. I like fish. I like boats. And I like catching fish and then eating them but, well, the fishing part is pretty boring for me. It’s like watching TV but not turning it on…kinda hoping it turns itself on…..ya know? So, it stands to reason that I rarely fish. I figure maybe twice a year. For ten minutes. Fifteen tops.

But that anti-fishing, pro-eating intro is just the ‘set-up’…..the story is:

Once again the recent storms sent a gush of water down our stream and, in that deluge, the pick-up pipe clogged up again. We have found that the most efficient way of dealing with that is that I drive Sal in, she gets out on the rocks and goes up the hill, does the work, and then comes down and I pick her up on another set of rocks on the other side of our bay. Total elapsed time is between 30 and 40 minutes. If she takes her own boat in and has to tie it up and all that, the chore is 60+ minutes and much more difficult.

After we discovered the best way to do it, I felt that 30 to 40 minutes was just NOT enough time to do anything useful while she was doing the clean-out. So, I grabbed a rod and dipped a hook off our point. I’d do that for a while (ten minutes) and then go back and pick her up.

Which is precisely what transpired last Thursday. She worked. I fished. Then she called for an extraction. As we were leaving the bay, I saw a boat coming in our direction. That is weird. Rarely does anyone come into our bay and there was no one living nearby but us. I said to Sal, “Pull in the rod and lay it on the floor.”

Our area is closed to fin-fishing. And I know that. I was cheating. I do not feel too guilty because I never catch anything and I have a license and it is kinda like ‘my bay’. But I am guilty. I know that. My rationale would not stand up in a court so I partially hid the rod. Glad I did.

As we pulled into our dock, the boat came up to us. It bristled with antennas and fancy equipment. It was impressive. Onboard the Fisheries Patrol boat were four crew all kitted up with all sorts of standard issue crap. We were hailed by a smiling fellow who asked, “Got any fish?”

“Nope”. Now that was the truth. No lies. But no extra words either. I had been fishing but that was NOT the question.

“So, what were you doing in the bay?”

I began to feel my anti-authoritarian inclination begin to rise in me like black bile. But Sal answered nicely. “We live here. We get our water from the stream in the bay. The pipe was clogged so I went in to unclog it. And that is my story.”

I could not help myself and added, “And it is a good story, don’t you fellows think?”

To their credit, they laughed. But they also looked in our boat the best that they could. They did not get too close. They were being careful with their new boat. The vessel is easily a $500,000, fully fitted out, twin 300hp Yamaha powered aluminum and inflatable tubed beauty. It was close to 30 feet in length.

“You guys look a little understaffed for this kind of work.”

They laughed. “We just wanted a ride on the new boat!

Normally, we would only see two crew in full regalia. That day we enjoyed well over $500,000 in crew (annualized) riding around in a $500,000 boat watching out for a guy in a 17′ foot boat in January catching a fish. I dunno….seems like ‘overkill’ to me.

They explained that the were policing illegal prawning in the area but it was my opinion that prawning was legal and I asked about that. “Well, it was legal but DFO has closed it recently. We had to confiscate four traps today.” They showed off their seized contraband. They were proud. The four traps were the equivalent of half a shopping buggy at Save-On.

” I am sure few locals know of the change in the rules. We will tell them by writing that up in our local paper. When is it open again?”

“April 1st. Gotta protect the females-with-eggs you know.”

Firstly, no one keeps females with eggs. Secondly, it is the commercial fishery that is decimating the prawn fishery. Some boats set as many as 600 traps (large) and they set and pull two or even three times a day. Multiply that by at least three big boats and the picture is clear. NOT LOCALS. Thirdly, there is never a DFO fishery patrol boat when you need one. Some poor, local guy drops two or four traps now and then. Sal and I drop 4 – 8 traps for two or three days a year, get 25 pounds and let the rest of the prawns keep fresh in the sea. We and the locals are not the problem. But we and the locals are the ones hassled.

Am I angry? No. Not in the least. Like most things, I just find it all so stupid. Confiscating ‘recreational’ traps in January is simply targeting the wrong segment at the wrong time. They will only get a local catching dinner. They know that. Close the commercial fishery or stop sales to Japan and China or sink $1M a year into a prawn hatchery or something constructive and positive and the problem is solved. Prosecute, persecute, alienate, anger and steal from ‘the people’ and you only make the problem worse.

OK, I am little ticked.

An observation…..(maybe a tangent)

Preamble: apologies. I have to at least ‘comment’ on a bit of the Capitol Building incident. I know that at least four of my seven readers prefer squirrel and raven stories or even Sally and me stories but some ‘news’ items need to be acknowledged. I will go back to being eclectic, varied, weird and personal later on but this is just another one of those times…….

Dumb Bubbas in camo and wearing red hats backwards storming the Capitol building is NOT really news. They’ve already ‘been there and done that‘ this year alone in Michigan and Oregon and other ‘Merican ‘sacred’ places like Albuquerque and Charlottesville. There are too many incidents of such mob-stupidity in the US to recall them all.

Timothy McVeigh got that sick hair-ball rolling at a modern pace back in 1995 in Oklahoma City. And silly militias all over the damned States do that kind of thing on smaller and more local scales all the time. Violence is kinda part of the ‘Merican culture. It is sick. It is ugly. And, in some ho-hum kinda way it is still news but it is no longer SHOCKING news. Not anymore. Any thinking person could have predicted January 6th especially when the Trumps publicly promoted that kind of thing all through Trump’s presidency. It was not so much news as it was the inevitable result of Trumpism. And it will not be the last.

As my readers know, I am no fan of Trump and I deplore the deplorables. And I have no idea how Guiliani has kept his license to malpractice law for so long. These Trumper-guys seem to suffer from some kind of common mutant strain of extreme self-humiliating idiocy and the disease is spreading like Covid. It is Darwinian in it’s self-harm but, odlly, I do not see it as revolutionary.

And that is the point. What we witnessed was the manifestation of a social illness, not a revolution. And so we have to be real when we talk about about the ‘insurrection’. It really wasn’t…..

There were thousands of people there and only a hundred or so ‘invaded’. The police were sensible and controlled in the beginning but also weak, ineffective and seemingly without any real leadership. Some were even sympathetic and ‘onside’ with the demonstrators (symptomatic of cultural dysfunction). Fact: there are 32 separate law enforcement agencies in DC. They didn’t plan. They didn’t coordinate. They didn’t communicate. They failed catastrophically. Stupid-in-uniform is also a uniquely American characteristic.

To my mind, the Capitol riot was more of an accident primed to happen than it was a revolution or even a manifestation of resistance to government.

It was something else…..an ‘illness’ of something else….mental/cultural health?

You see, to me, it showed up more like a Hollywood casting call! The thing that amazed me mostly were the number of ‘invaders’ filming and taking selfies! These were NOT revolutionaries, these were wannabe You-Tube and Facebook stars! They were there, not so much to burn and raze the capital, but rather to ‘be seen’ and ‘gain’ celebrity. What I witnessed mostly was the emergence of pathetic but aspiring reality TV stars. They are classic deplorables but most of those in the building were just self-absorbed and were playing the role for the cameras. The scene called for chaos and they mostly just acted the part.

I am not, however, defending them in the least. One cannot defend uber-stupid. Acting like a revolutionary requires behaviour like a real revolutionary. I am just noting the incredible number of camouflaged, tatted-up, jack-booted idiots going into so-called battle with phone cameras glued to their faces. The US is corrupt in so many ways and too many to list and detail in this post. But social media has created a new category of dysfunctional fool, the many who suffer from the ‘look-at-me-and-give-me-likes‘ syndrome. Mini narcissists in thrall to their Orange leader.

That was what was on display three days ago, not revolution.

This ‘spectacle’ was all actually quite fitting for these times and should be expected. Some giant-sized imbecile who cannot pass by a mirror or a camera without posing is the leader-of-choice for a whole bunch of Camo-wearing (another look-at-me sign), flag-waving, ‘branding-oriented’, celebrity wannabes. The Capitol building riot was more of a sound stage ‘audition’ for being the next-alt-celebrity than it was a platform for a true revolutionary.

Look at Jake Angeli (he of the Viking headdress) and ‘envelope stealer’, Richard Barnett. They are true idiot-patriots who didn’t seem like overturning the government was their prime objective at all. Not to me, anyway. Being ‘seen’ was their mission. Being photographed was their goal. Getting known was the real objective. Celebrity is what they wanted, not a new form of governance. They made no grand statements. They had no manifesto.

They had cameras.

Well, I could be wrong about all that. I am sure a few were serious insurrectionists (less than a dozen). There are, however, a lot of Americans who seem to prefer tyranny over democracy and cult over culture. They like guns and violence and ugly over beauty, peace and cooperation. They prefer celebrity over substance, wealth over health and stupid over intelligence. They are truly the dumb, deplorable Bubbas. Still, I could not help but see only a little, tiny bit of revolutionary fervor and a whole lot of narcissistic posturing and preening on the 6th of January, 2021.

And that will be sustained and nurtured by the similarly self-absorbed society as a whole. I am sure the ‘Mericans will turn the rhetoric up into a ‘historic day of infamy in our blah, blah, blah…’

Why? Because that makes for good TV (and You-Tube).

Sally and me

We’ve been together for over fifty years as of the end of February. It has been great for me. I would sign up for another fifty in a heartbeat. Sal said she’s mulling it over, considering her options…….

I can think of no one possibly being a better partner than her but we have our quirks, our wrinkles, our differences. Well, to put it more bluntly: she’s a nut! But she is a loveable nut. And gorgeous. Plus she seems to ‘manage’ me and ‘deal’ with me in such a charming manner.

Still, we have our conflicts. Dishes is the big one (pretty much the only one). When we first came together, I said, “I do not do dishes. I have done way too many dishes in my life and the only line in the sand I bring to this relationship is that I do NOT do dishes. To be fair, I will buy new dishes every week; I will eat off dirty dishes; I will use paper plates; I will eat straight out of the pots and pans but – and let me make this perfectly clear – I do not do dishes!”

I was doing dishes within the first week. She is hard to say no to.

So, we’ve each been doing dishes for fifty years and, while she has done more of them, I have done tons more than I signed on for and I still manifest subtle jabs of resistance to this day. But, well, resistance is futile. I have been washed, rinsed and assimilated. We take turns at it virtually ‘every other day’ on dishes.

You guessed it: no machine dish washer living off the grid.

But we were NOT strictly scheduled into the every-other-day routine and some days I went three straight or she did. We couldn’t keep track. Of course, Sal, being like the Chinese water torture (somehow still charming, tho) she can be, kept trying to formalize it. “Sweetie, dishes…your turn. I did ’em last night.”

I have learned that little observation-fact-conclusion statements like that one have completely reconfigured my thinking, my life and my perspective. I am being subtly roped in, hog-tied and left at the sink so gently and with ‘love’, it is maddening. And hypnotizing. Did I mention the little touch on my arm accompanied by a heart-melting smile when she says things like that? Turns out I am made of putty – Silly putty, actually – and often found wrapped around her little fingers. Wooed into ever increasing domesticity by a charming, beautiful, psychopathic genius. I am helpless. I feel doomed.

I try to resist.

“OK, here’s the deal. I will do the dishes. Damn, damn, damn. But you still have to touch my arm and smile, OK?. No touch-and-smile is a deal-breaker. Got it?”

“Of course, Sweetie. You are so manly and cute when you put your foot down.” And she smiled and touched my arm. It was like looking Itsy-bitsy spider right in the eye. And I was being comforted by her web!

“But”, I said, thinking quickly, “I’ll do the even days. You do the odd. In that way, we can keep track. Odd-even, odd-even. OK?”

“Of course, Sweetie…deal”. I swore I heard a little cackle slip from her lips but I got the smile and the arm-touch and things kinda blur for me when that happens.

Still, I was smiling a bit. A bit too much, I guess. And the spider-woman was not amused. ‘Why would he be smilin’ like that?’

I had cheated her out of an extra week of dishes! On a leap year, it is eight days! Seven months end in 31 days (31 is an odd number) with the next day being the first of the month and it, too, is an odd number. I laughed out loud. Perhaps a bit maniacally…….

“WHAT!!!!! Why are you laughing????

I explained my Machiavellian plot. She did not take it well. Her lips became a hard line. The rosy cheeks went dark. Veins rippled in her forearms. There was a palpable volcanic presence suddenly in the room. I backed away. Slowly.

We may be great partners but we are different people. She’s sweet, beautiful, noble and full of grace. I am slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails. With slime on top. But we at least now kinda ‘share’ doin’ the dishes….ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah

Thar she blows!

If you live up the coast and especially if you live ‘on the water’, you need a boat. If you have a boat, you pretty much need a dock. 70% of residents have docks, 20% use community docks and 5 or 10% use ‘lines’, anchors and floats and then they just make-do. Virtually no one has a boat totally exposed to the prevailing winds (SE) altho a few boats temporarily at anchor might make the mistake of anchoring in that direction and then, when there is a major storm, they either move the boat or just worry the whole time.

So, from that paragraph just written above, you’d think that most people can relax in a major storm. NOT SO!!

Of the aforementioned 70% barely 5% have so-called legal docks. Most folks have temporary docks (which makes them legal) but the definition of temporary is the lack of pilings, dolphins or other fixed elements that keep the docks in place securely. And safely. The vast majority have docks that are really just large floats. Those floats may be anchored and tied with lines-to-shore but they do not have fixed-point pilings or dolphins. When a major storm hits, these dock/floats move around. A lot!!!

Today, a lot of temporary docks all up and down the coast are leaping, jumping and dancing wildly.

Our neighbour’s dock (the one on which we rely for our boats) is leaping like Mikhail Baryshnikov on a mechanical bull. It is crazy wild over there. We should know – we just came back from checking on it. Holeeee!!!

Because the float is essentially just anchored, the lines get tight and get slack as the wind and seas change from minute to minute. The ramp which ties the float to the land is swinging fifteen feet to the North on a strong gust and then ‘bounces back’ an equal amount South when the wind abates. Our ramp was describing 30 foot plus arcs down there.

When the ramp is going left and right like a windshield wiper (albeit a lot slower), that means that the dock way out at the end is moving even more so. And, while everything is moving sideways, it is also leaping up and down. One minute you can see an anchor line get taught and the next you can see that line disappear under the water while the line on the opposite side is as tight as a bow string. What actually keeps all this ‘flotilla’ together is, of course, just wet wood, ropes and cables. Some ropes are new and strong (but small) and others are old and thick (salvaged hawsers) but they have weight and the weight dampens the shock.

If you want to dampen the shock on the lines properly, you put kellets half way down the line. A kellet is a weight and at least 30 pounds is ideal. Flat sheet steel is even better (heavy and with surface resistance). They make the line just that much heavier and, if used with a ‘bottom’ anchor, it also improves the pull-angle. Kellets are good and we have them on the critical lines.

The true weakness in the ‘temporary float’ system is that the dock-float is usually made of wood and the lines are tied to wooden cleats and/or frames. The ropes can take a lot more force than can the actual wooden float unless it is very well engineered and even then….

The advantage of temporary dock floats is that you do not need a permit (a bureaucratic process designed and administered by demons and cretins), it is cheaper to install and the property taxes don’t include them as an improvement. Why? Because in concept the float is just a different kind of flat-boat at anchor. And then smaller boats tie up to it. Boats are not considered improvements.

The disadvantage is that it is just not as safe. In fact, our dock comes apart every year at some point or another. At least once. The rope breaks, the wood comes away, the anchor moves, the lines somehow get tighter and looser. Temporary dock/floats are permanent work. But the upside is the demons and cretins are happy.

Today, we are experiencing a real test of our dock/float system but it seems to be holding. Rather well, actually. Sal and I, on the other hand, returned to the warmth of our wood stove after half an hour of being diligent about checking on it but we (poor babies) got kinda wet and cold. A half hour of that was enough!