The Elephant's Child

An Old Fart At 35.

Victor Davis Hanson's article today on dropping out of the mainstream culture really resonated with me.  It's very much where I am, partly by choice and partly by circumstance. 

Four years ago we moved to a town 30 miles away from a very tiny TV market and made the budgetary decision not to install cable or satellite TV.  For a long time, all we could get was the Public Broadcasting Station.  After Feburary of this year, that station went digital and left us in the dark.  We held off on a digital converter box for quite awhile, but then gave one a try.  It wouldn't work, despite several set-up attempts. So, we remain without any broadcast TV at all.  So be it.  Any Big Story That Everyone Is Talking About will be up on YouTube anyway.   Sparkle Kitty has benefited in any number of ways by growing up in very much isolated from aggressive advertising. 

Like Victor Davis Hanson, we stopped following bands and current music a long time ago. Nowadays, we don't have the disposable income to be spending much at iTunes or on CDs.  I'm only dimly aware of current actors. The last time I saw a movie in the theater was oh, about three years ago.  Mad Musician and I never were into sports of any kind, other than me occasionally watching of a Nascar race or two. 

I do occasionally feel "out of it."  I occasionally toss a blank look when people expect me to know to whom they're referring.   But rarely do I care enough to seriously consider paying for cable TV or subscribing to a major newspaper.

I'm not Amish, however.  I read dead-tree books, an awful lot of them, and nearly all of them non-fiction. I read pixellated opinions and essays.  I blog.  I hang out with friends on Facebook.  I participate in two email lists, one of which is extremly active.   While our life is still full of much more stress and travail than I care for (or feel that I can bear, at times) it's pretty simple compared to the American average. 

In a way, I'm grateful that circumstances have made our life this way; I'm not sure I'd have had the discipline to dump pop culture and the incredible onslaught of always-terribly-urgent media of all types otherwise.

It does make me an old fart at the tender age of 35, but I rather like my rock.  It's nice under here.

Oh, I Don't Know.

I'm not a fan of vaccinations for every sniffle and cough, and I do absolutely have grave concerns over the weird immune response in some kids that seems to lead to autism spectrum disorders. (I tend to think it has more to do with overwhelming sensitive and immature immune systems than with thimerosal.)  I think there are plenty of families who have very good reasons to skip vaccinating their kiddos.  More power to them.  I support them in that decision.

However, I don't buy all the freaking out over the supposedly terribly dangerous H1N1 vaccine.

So sue me.  I just don't.

I think there's good reasons to avoid vaccinations in some cases, but I do think there are some situations that warrant the vaccine.  If Mad Musician worked in a school or a health-care environment, if Sparkle was (perish the thought!) in institutional-style day care, if there was strong evidence that this year's H1N1 was killing people by triggering a cytokine storm, I'd be more inclined owards our family getting the vaccine. 

So, I'm throwing up my hands and burying my head in the sand.  Simultaneously. 

We'll take our vitamins, and keep the house slightly more stocked with food than usual in case we need to hunker down for a few days while the Flu blows through town.  Other than that, I can't bring myself to make a passionate decision one way or the other.  We probably won't get either vaccine (we usually do not get the seasonal flu vaccine) but it won't be because of some fear of a vast government conspiracy to control the population. It'll be because of panic-exhaustion.  Cry wolf so often, and I stop listening. To anyone.

It Was a Tuesday.

In the Midwest it was the same sort of sparkling, crisp, clear early Fall day that it was in New York City.

I never see the cyan skies unique to early September without thinking of that week in 2001 when the skies were completely silent of all air travel.

I didn't cry on Tuesday. I didn't cry all week.

On Friday I watched the memorial service held at the National Cathedral, and heard this.

And then, then I wept.

Photo by Brandon McCombs, uploaded at Wikipedia, and used under a Creative Commons license.

R.I.P Mr. Kennedy.

First thing on Wednesday morning, St. Peter and St. Paul met for their usual morning smoke exactly fifteen feet and three inches outside the Pearly Gates.

"Did you hear?" said St. Paul, lighting up his favorite brand, Celestial. "A Kennedy died last night." He took a deep draw.  Celestials have no tar, of course, and who worries about lung cancer in Heaven?

"Yeah, there are less and less of them every day," replied St. Peter. "End of an era, I suppose.  Not even the Kennedys can cheat death, Irish blood notwithstanding."

"Yup, 'spose so," drawled St. Paul, flicking ash over the edge of a cloud, and watching as it fell to earth.  Way down far below, a tiny voice cried, "Hey Mommy! Look! A shooting star!" St. Paul chuckled, and then, with a wicked grin, stomped his foot. 

"Oh, no!" came an adult voice, drifting up on a small breeze. "We'd better get inside before the rain starts."   St. Paul turned back to face St. Peter.

"Hey, Petey-boy. Do you think we'll see old Ted up here later this morning?" he asked.

St. Peter paused in mid-smoke, cigarette poised a few inches from his mouth. "I wouldn't hold my breath."

Nationalized Healthcare is Wrong, and So is This.

A BMW 735i, bricked.

Mid-90's era Volvo, bricked. 

Jeep Cherokee, bricked.  (It lasted all of 14 seconds. Sad.)

A pretty decent truck, dead.

Every one of those cars above is nicer than either one of my current so-called "clunkers." (One of my clunkers is close to 190,000 miles and the other is approaching 250,000 miles.)

Oh, and those whiz-bang smarty-pants guys that organized this "Cash For Clunkers" program?

Oh, yeah, baby, I SO want those guys running my health care.

Nationalized Healthcare. Oh. Yay.

Hat tip to Hot Air.

Target Practice?

Coming soon to a roadway near you:

Hat tip: Marathon Pundit via Michelle Malkin

Craigslist 2021: For Sale.

$44,000 (Worldollar), only 84,000 miles! Runs great. New paint in 2019 -you won't have to paint it again for at least 3 years if you park it in a garage or tarp it. (I'll include my GM tarp - original equipment, but it's in good shape. Some of those soyplastic tarps fell apart after five years, but this one seems to be ok.) 

Environmentally friendly .6 liter engine means low carbon taxes! Perfect for a commuter car.  Drive this baby to work everyday, and no one will suspect you of being one of those carbon thieves who sneaks your illegal "pleasure car" out on to the country roads after dark.  (You don't do that, do you? Good. Because I won't sell to a filthy independethink!)   Hey, if you've got to pay the non-conforming, non-electric extension on your 709-5e, you might as well drive a classic!  Ping me @itsallbetternow for a test drive.

Where Are We Going? And Why Am I In This Handbasket?

From Iowahawk, the hands-down-best place on the web for, well, the stuff it is that Iowahawk does. Calling it "satire" falls short of the mark, somehow. Video runs about a little over 9 minutes.

Disturbing Parody or Horrifying Truth?

"...scientists plan a major research project to see if synthetic human blood can be made from embryonic stem cells."

Answer here. 

Hat tip to Fearsome Comrade.