When people share their politics: whom they’re voting for and whom they support, believe them when they share their truth with you. When they beat their chest and scream MAGA and call people childish names and casually put aside heinous acts by saying, “well I’m not like that”, believe their actions. Believe their truth. Actions speak louder than words.
I am using vacation time on Election Day to do my part to make sure that everyone that wants to vote is able to vote, and to make sure those who aren’t sure they want to vote are encouraged to vote.
If the Trump administration has showed me anything it’s that I am apparently a terrible judge of character. A few family and friends, that I may not see eye to eye on a few subjects on, have turned out to be rabid, heels dug in Trump supporters. If I was a smart person I would have seen that coming. But I look for the good in people. I really try to find the positive.
Sometimes there’s just not that much positivity to find.
A sly joke here, a remark there, these are things I would let roll off my back. Shame on me.
I’m reminded of Maya Angelou. “When a person shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”
I’m still on Facebook. Now look it, before you throw red paint at me or point at me and scream “shame!”, I will say that I have no idea why I’m still on Facebook. It’s not particularly innovative. It’s a gross perversion of development skills. It’s an abuse of network connectivity and it’s an abomination of technology, essentially raping society of all its useful resources.
But it’s how people keep in touch. I hang my head in shame.
For the past 48 hours the big kick on Facebook has been to show your support for the United States Postal Service. People are posting avatars and photos and showing other signs of support by saying things like, “if you live in a very blue neighborhood, drive to a red leaning neighborhood post office to mail you ballot!”.
Oh golly gee isn’t that a great idea.
Here’s the thing, how about we convince the elected officials we’ve put in office to do their job and get the postal service working the way it was intended to work.
I have a package coming to me from Cincinnati, Ohio. I have no idea what this package is but I got some email with a tracking number proclaiming the arrival of this Priority Mail package from Cincinnati, Ohio last Monday.
Cincinnati, Ohio is 295 miles from where I sit right now. We are on day 10 and the damn package still hasn’t arrived. I don’t know what the package is, I don’t care what the package is, but quite frankly it was sent by Priority Mail and it basically hasn’t found its way across the state of Indiana in 10 days.
The folks at the Post Office know nothing. I know nothing. The tracking number app knows nothing. No one knows anything.
This is what makes America Great. Right? Susan Sarandon and her friends say there was no difference between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton so you might as well vote for the woman that sat on crystals. What was her name? Jill Stein? Yeah, it took a Google search for me to remember that. And I have a memory like a steel trap.
Susan Sarandon can go rotate on a lawn sprinkler shooting out boiling water for all I care.
It’s 2020 and we don’t even have a functional post office. Yet I have friends and families declaring that things are wonderful under Trump and life is great again in America. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Things are not great. When we need to publish guides for voters to drive to “more white” areas of the country to reliably mail their ballots we have something seriously wrong with these “United” States. Small wonder Angela Merkel is now considered the most powerful world leader.
But people post things on Facebook like it’s going to make a difference. Wreath wrappers on their picture. Ribbons. Rainbow colors. Postage stamp graphics. It doesn’t make a difference. Posting your protest on Facebook is a feel good maneuver and nothing more.
You know what makes a difference? Making phone calls. Screaming at switchboard operators that don’t want to forward you to voicemail. Voting. Putting up signs. Going to protests. Making your voice heard.
Facebook? It’s a waste of time. Your update is like screaming into an echo chamber. It’ll generate ad revenue and nothing more.
Do something. Make a phone call. Make someone cry. Make a difference.
My first “real” sci-fi novel was “The Demu Trilogy” by F.M. Busby. I’ve read the book over three dozen times. I recounted my experience with this book in a blog entry from 13 years ago.
Once in a great while I’ll do a Google search on “The Demu Trilogy” to see what others have to say about it. Usually the comments are not favorable. I find the reviews to be quite pedestrian. I think folks don’t get it or approach the series from a preconceived notion as to what it should be, and then are disappointed when it doesn’t meet expectations. Why should folks have an expectation when they start reading a book?
Recently I was going through the book shelf and came across my only copy of the book; it’s the second copy I’ve owned. I purchased it used back in 1993 after my original copy was eaten by my roommate’s cocker spaniel. I don’t think the dog enjoyed it as much as I did. It’s time for me to read “The Demu Trilogy” again.
I think I read “The Demu Trilogy” at my most impressionable time; there are elements of a casual approach to sex and relationships present in the book that I’ve had in my adult life. I suppose it’s just a manifestation of the way I’m wired, but back in the day I was never one for beating around the bush when I wanted to know if someone shared a mutual attraction. This is what made building a relationship with my husband so simple; I would just say what I was interested in, and he would honestly answer if he was interested in the same sort of activity. There were no games, no coy text messages, no hidden secrets. I knew I loved him, he knew he loved me, we said it, we did it, forever and ever, amen.
Perhaps if we all lived our sexuality honestly the country would be a better place. The problem is, the American soap opera would have never come to fruition.
One of the main hangups with relationships is jealousy. I’ve shared this thought before: jealousy is a feeling that comes from within. It’s an insecurity. It’s competitiveness. No one can make you jealous; only you can make yourself jealous. “What do they have that I don’t?” So many relationships end because of jealousy. So sad. I have several insecurities in my life, but those leading to jealousy are not among them. I’m just wired differently, I guess.
I’m reminded of the hilarity around an episode of “Maude” where a college professor of some sort comes out and says that he wants to sleep with Maude and then the Norman Lear hilarity of dialog ensues. The episode was actually filmed twice, the unaired version starring Bea Arthur’s then-husband Gene Saks.
I digress a lot.
One of the themes in “The Demu Trilogy” has to do with the humanoid race the Tilari. They’re very sexual beings. They are open and honest about their sexuality. Quite frankly, I’m surprised my great-aunt and uncle included this book in the box of books they gave me when I was 13 or so years old. Maybe they didn’t know the contents of the box, after all, this book was sandwiched between two copies of “Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex (But We’re Afraid To Ask)”. I read one of those two copies of that book in the box that was gifted to me by my Uncle Pete; I learned a lot of outdated things about being gay.
If people were just honest about who they are and what makes them tick.
I’m rambling. It’s been a while since I’ve rambled on the blog. Can you believe this blog turned 19 years old last week? Where has the time gone? I started writing this thing when I was 33 years old. Wow.
There is no forethought into the construction of this blog entry. I’m just letting the words flow, uninhibited. My husband says I get too hung up on my inhibitions and that I try too hard to try to fit into societal norms.
COVID-19 prevents us from congregating, but this is the type of dialog I would have with my husband and family around a campfire at the gay campground. We’d all be shirtless. I’d be drinking a craft beer. Something with some octane. Others would be drinking other things. We’d be relaxed.
And then we’d continue the conversation as this blog entry comes to an end.
For years, decades even, my husband has belched out the words “Kaye Ballard!” whenever we’ve spent time reminiscing about shows we watched as kids. His bark of “Kaye Ballard!” was in reference to “The Mothers-In-Law”, starring Kaye along with Eve Arden on the NBC show that was actually owned and produced by Desi Arnaz, and was co-owned by Proctor and Gamble. NBC didn’t make a lot of money from “The Mothers-In-Law” back in the day and therefore it was cancelled after two seasons and it’s not really talked about that much. Written by the same folks that wrote “I Love Lucy”, it has a very formula farcical feel that seems slightly out of whack from a 1960s sitcom that’s the same age as me, but when you’re in the right frame of mind, it’s a fun show to watch. I knew some about Kaye Ballard; I knew the name, I vaguely remembered the show, I remember her doing things on The Muppet Show and maybe Match Game, and I knew she could sing.
Earl and I just finished watching the entire series of “The Mothers-In-Law” on Amazon Prime this week. I’ve mentioned this a few times on the blog since the beginning of the pandemic.
Kaye Ballard chews through the scenery of “The Mothers-In-Law” in a way that’s hard to describe. Demonstrative? Oh, yeah. Loud? Yep. Boisterous? You bet.
What a freakin’ delight. She’s a hoot and a half.
After watching Kaye do her thing and finishing up the entire series I’ve been reading and watching interviews with Ms. Ballard via the Internet. A brilliant vocalist, she has an amazing voice that was featured on many an album and Broadway show. Kaye passed at age 93 in 2019. From every interview I’ve watched over the past few days, she was a delight, completely honest and forthright, and a good ol’ Show Business broad. They don’t make them like her anymore and we are all at a loss without Kaye Ballard no longer on this Earth. She never married. Who cares? People speculate. It was a different time. She lived her life honestly and completely and shared what she wanted to share and I hope I feel as much vivaciousness as she showed right up through the last interview in the last years of her life.
The third to last episode of “The Mothers-In-Law” features a scene with Kaye and Eve Arden with Don Rickles. Don is ad-libbing from the script during the scene and Kaye and Eve lose it a bit, something you didn’t really see in 1960s sitcoms. It was a delight to watch the other night and if you have Amazon Prime, you should watch it.
I can’t help but wonder if anyone will be writing in this manner in 50 years about the likes of the folks on television today. Will some middle aged gay man pine about Debra Messing that was I’ve been amused by Kaye Ballard’s antics these past few weeks? Doubtful. They don’t make them like that anymore and we’ve lost a great deal of class because of it.
I’m looking forward to spending time listening to Kaye’s albums and enjoying a few moments of what was.
I’ve hinted to my husband that we might have to watch a few episodes of “The Doris Day Show” where Kaye played Doris’ neighbor and owner of an Italian restaurant.
I was listening to CKOI out of Montréal while working this morning and a new song came on that impressed me very much, especially when I realized it was Miley Cyrus singing.
I’m not a huge fan of today’s pop music, by “Midnight Sky” really caught my ear. I took a look at the video and it has an old school Madonna vibe to it.
Airplanes require navigational data. Sometimes that data comes from the pilot, but in today’s modern airplanes there’s GPS systems that help. Back when I was a member of the flying club that owned two 1966 Piper Cherokees, it was my job to update the Garmin 530W GPS unit every 28 days with charts and other waypoint data. We purchased this via subscription to a company that provided that sort of thing, and I downloaded it to a proprietary card that was updated on the 28-day schedule. The file wasn’t very big but it was a bit of a hassle downloading it on a Mac. I’m not sure I would be able to accomplish the task on an iPad today.
Recently, a team of security engineers were allowed to look at the systems on a Boeing 747. While they found a clear delineation between the passenger entertainment systems and the aircraft’s control systems, no one is going to be able to hack into the cockpit from the monitor in the seat back in front of them, they also found that navigational data is still loaded into the avionics via floppy disk.
Hey, if it works and is reliable, why change it?
Of course, there are plenty of online “reporting” sites that are hyping this up as some sort of grave danger to the safety of the Boeing 747. Hyped up headlines generate ad clicks and everyone wants to get rich by belching out a few words on a website and raking in the bucks via advertising.
In that regard, we live in such despicable times.
The truth of the matter is, a floppy disk in 2020 is just as functional and safe to use as a floppy disk in 2000. Navigational chart data from 1995 is about the same size as navigational chart data in 2020. Honestly, I’d rather this data was loaded in a tried and true method rather than trying to connect a 747 to the airport wifi and downloading the data. That’s where you have problems; wifi signals are much more prone to errors or even “hacking”.
If a tried and true method has worked for decades without incident, there’s no reason to move to newer technology simply for the sake of change.
I think it’s quite nifty that floppy disks are still used today. It’s a critical part of what we’d call “sneaker net” back in the day, physically copying files from one computer to another.
Monday’s storm definitely followed a marked path through our neighborhood. Walking the blocks to the north of our building, there wasn’t a lot of damage to be found. Small branches here and there, leaves everywhere, but not much beyond that.
South of our building, I’m finding more and more fallen trees, some resting on cars and houses. Power and other lines are still down. Cleanup is well underway, but there are still several streets blocked from fallen trees.
I guess a derecho can follow a defined path much in the manner of a tornado doing the same, though the National Weather Service reported and EF1 tornado touched down just to the east of us.
Perhaps our neighborhood was part of the approach.
Touch/clock “Upload Image”, find image in the finder. The image has been magically synchronized between my iPhone and iPad, courtesy of iCloud
Write the entry
Touch/click publish
Writing a blog post on the Linux desktop:
On the iPhone, make sure Dropbox has uploaded all the photos considered for the post
On the Linux desktop, navigate to the Dropbox/Camera Uploads folder
Wait for Dropbox to finish downloading, find photos that were just downloaded, copy them to the Desktop
Right click on each image, choose from the list of image editing applications available (Shotwell, GIMP, ‘Image Editor’, ‘Image Viewer’, etc.), open the image, resize to an acceptable size for upload
Export image as JPG file
Open web browser, navigate to the site’s admin page
Click New Post
Click Insert Image, drag each photo from desktop onto the web browser, wait for upload
Write the entry
Click Publish Now
One of these approaches has less “user friction” than the other. Why is it that I occasionally lean toward the process that takes more steps? A desire to set myself apart to show that I’m different. I have a driving urge to prove I’m different.
You already know that. I already know that. At age 52, I probably don’t need to demonstrate this as often as I did as a kid.
This is not the way to demonstrate this. The end result for the reader and/or viewer is the same; they have no way of knowing which method I used to compose this blog entry.
So yesterday’s storm was quite feisty. O’Hare showed winds gusting over 80 MPH. An EF1 tornado touched down just to the east of us. I thought the clouds coming over the condo looked quite “swirly” as we watched the storm pass through yesterday.
I was surprised to see exactly how much damage was on streets in our neighborhood when I went for my morning walk. As of this evening there are still areas without power; ComEd is working around the clock to restore electricity to those areas. Luckily we never lost power.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
