Empty Nest...

Sometime over the last week at least (sadly, I wasn't around to see it happen), the eggs laid by one of our resident snapping turtles hatched (unless, of course, one of our local raccoons dug out the nest... one of the pitfalls of the 'r' reproductive strategy):

I'm going to have to check out the vicinity of the nest for any hatchlings- they look very cute when they are pocket-sized. I'm slightly bummed that I wasn't able to witness baby turtles burrowing out of their nest, but I can't always be as lucky as I was when I spied the killdeer chicks minutes after hatching.

End of an ERA

In a case which actually supports the adage that only the good die young, Phyllis Schlafly has finally ceased to haunt the planet. I'm not the sort of person who agrees that one shouldn't speak ill of the dead- it's important to call out persons who have willfully harmed others, especially those who have made long, successful careers out of it. Schlafly made a lucrative career out of traveling around the United States to tell women to stay home and let their husbands work.

For those few readers who might not be familiar with Schlafly, I am envious of you... I mean to say, she was one of the leaders of the Ladies Against Women movement, who was best known for her opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment. Schlafly was a uniquely horrible person, a woman who tried to trivialize domestic violence and sexual harassment, who categorically denied that spousal rape could occur, who believed that the pay gap wasn't a bad thing because it sustained marriages. She even allowed her hatred of immigrants to, er, trump her belief in the Free Market. Tell me that it's not good to speak ill of such a monster.

Phullis Schlafly did her level best to decrease opportunity for women, to decrease security for families. Still, as horrible as she was, I really can't blame her for her career of evil. In a sane society, she would have been the crazy lady on the local street corner, calling young women sluts. I blame American society for allowing her hateful, reactionary message to influence legislation. The real shame is on us.

Off on Labor Day?

In a stunning development, I actually have off on Labor Day. My 'weekend' is typically Monday and Tuesday, so I usually have off on Mondays, and we have adequate staffing so there's no 'all hands on deck' situation. The organization pays time-and-a-half on holidays at any rate, so my part-time subordinates are actually happy to work. One of the guys told me about a bunch of car repair and maintenance bills he has coming up, so he's eager for all the hours he can get. I'm content with loafing around all day in order to celebrate my status as a worker. I had a conversation with a bunch of co-workers today about working on Labor Day, and the general consensus is that the job is rewarding... one important factor is working for a not-for-profit is 'buy in'. None of us is making a ton of money, but we value our work and we cherish our workplaces. That being said, I don't mind having the day off.

In the past I've linked to the Dead Milkmen's song Stuart, which I consider a perfect distillation of right-wing conspiracy theorist fringe paranoia. In their snottier early incarnation, the Milkmen excoriated the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon with their song Labor Day:





As an added bonus, in the hope that taco trucks will indeed materialize on every corner, here's a doubleshot of Dead Milkmen, Taco Land segueing into Big Lizard in My Backyard:





Now, if only I had a taco truck on the corner, I know what I'd be having for lunch on this lazy Labor Day. Hope everyone is having a good time.

The Conversation Took a Turn for the Weird

Today was a busy day- we are in the midst of a late-summer fundraising event, a family friendly harvest festival that has been drawing about twelve-hundred visitors to the site each day this weekend. There are games and craft activities for the children and a beer concession and bluegrass band for the grownups, plus a nice low-key educational content so we can sneak in some learning. It's a nice atmosphere, a great vibe. I had a seven year old try to give me some of her Pokémon cards because I answered some questions she had, I thanked her, then told her she'd be better off bringing her cards to school and trading them with her schoolmates for ones she didn't have. Sweet kid, I didn't mention that Pokémon were a bit of a touchy subject round these parts.

The day wound down, and I was able to lock the visitors' center so the shop assistant could close up. After locking up, I saw two gentlemen outside the front door, so I grabbed a copy of our brochure and a map put out by the local chamber of commerce which lists local businesses. The two guys, one who looked to be in his mid-to-late forties and one who looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties, were visiting from the Syracuse area. I explained that we were closed for the day, but that our sites were open on Labor Day and we were hosting a festival which runs from about 10AM to 5PM. I gave them a bit of the local scuttlebutt, and indicated on the chamber of commerce map a section which lists local hotels. We chatted for a bit, and I told them where they could go to buy some local souvenirs.

The two gentlemen thanked me, then left the premises. About twenty minutes later, they returned and the older of them asked me, "Do you know of any adult places around here?" Things got just a bit weird. I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, and I like to think of myself as imperturbable.

To clarify matters, I replied, "Like, a porn shop? There's a place a few miles away on the service road to the main highway."

"Do they have a cinema, or booths where you can watch?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh... I don't know... if you stop in there, someone might be able to help you with that. If not, you're not that far from New York City."

The gent thanked me again, and the two went on their way. It was just a little weird having a conversation like this with a complete stranger while on the job (of course, it would be a lot more awkward having such a conversation with a friend, or worse, a family member). I'm not about to mention this to the boss in the context of company 'hospitality standards', largely out of concern that he'd tell me where I should have sent these guys. At any rate, it was weird, and in a weird way, it reminded me of an obscure song I heard on the legendary WLIR as a kid... a song that I am not the only one to vaguely remember that I now know is Soft Core by a band named Maurice and the Cliches:





Kinda funny to think back on listening to this as a kid... thanks for the nostalgia trip, friendly pervs!

Deadbeat Donald Even Stiffs the Big Fish

Looking at the picture of Trump's 'war room' staff, posted by Tengrain, the thing that struck me most was how young most of them looked. Knowing that millennials are often trapped in unpaid internships indeed, Trump's daughter has become infamous for not paying writers), I immediately suspected that these poor foolish College Republican Trump Youth are not being paid for their strategery (sic). Hell, not even contracts are enough to get Donald Trump to pay his bills.

It got even weirder then... it turns out that Trump isn't even paying his top staffers. This is actually surprising to me, because, as Bernie Madoff proved, stealing from other rich people is a cardinal sin, while stealing from poor people will ensure that the poor peoples' tax dollars will bail you out when you crash and burn. It was acceptable when Trump was stealing from dishwashers and cabinetmakers, but I can't see stealing from consultants working out for him in the long run. Trump has even stiffed the very lawyers who have represented him in lawsuits regarding his unpaid bills.

I can't imagine competent campaign workers to continue with Trump's bizarre presidential bid... these are not exactly charitable people here. Even if Trump's real endgame is a right-wing network of his own, as some people suspect, I can't see right wing scumbags such as Racist Bannon (apologies to 'Johnny Quest' fans) and Roger 'Bad Touch' Ailes going all-in with a guy who is a grifter on the level of Donald Trump, though I imagine Bannon would own the network while Trump would be relegated to the status of 'the help'. At the best, I could see these three assholes ending up like this:





The real kicker here is that Trump's brand has pretty much been nuked from orbit- his racism and misogyny are too toxic for major corporate sponsors, only the most naive people will work for a guy with his record of non-payment. The guy even makes his volunteers sign a contract which states that they, and their employees, sha'n't ever disparage him.

I keep waiting for the total implosion, but it hasn't quite happened yet. In a nation of three hundred million people, there are enough idiots willing to line your pockets to their own detriment... the well-heeled people who are being stiffed are evil, not stupid, they'll probably bail soon.

Warning to Researchers: Don't Fall in Love

One of the big stories from earlier in the week was news of the discovery of a radio signal of extraterrestrial origin that needs to be further examined. I'm not overly optimistic that this signal is evidence of an extrasolar civilization, but such a discovery would be a neat thing to see happen in my lifetime. Even with my pessimistic view, I have one word of warming to any scientists investigating the origin of this signal... don't fall in love:





Oddly enough, I seem to have only one post mentioning Split Enz, even though they have long been a favorite band of mine. A few years back, I posted a link to a documentary about New Zealand's Flying Nun Records that Another Kiwi was kind enough to refer to me. At any rate, 'Poor Boy' is a cautionary tale... Proxima Centauri B is no place to go looking for romance.

This Jack Ain't Jack!

On Sunday, one of our visitors approached me with a problem- she had a flat tire and didn't have any roadside assistance plan, would it be possible for me to help her? Being the sort of person who enjoys an occasional mechanical challenge, I told her that I would do my best. I went to the parking lot, accompanied by the visitor and one of our weekend cleaning contractors, an extremely nice gentleman from Peru. The woman's car was a late-90's/early-oughts vintage Volkswagen sedan, a car that I had no experience with regarding basic maintenance. First things first, though, I had the woman open the trunk so I could size up the equipment provided for tire changes. The jack looked so flimsy that it passed beyond 'scary' into the category of 'comical'. Oh, well, work with what you have. I rummaged in my own car for my 20" cruciform lug wrench because tire irons are totally inadequate to the task of removing tires.

Looking at the lugs, I was momentarily stymied, because they looked like they needed to be removed with some sort of specialized 'star fastener' remover, though a brief examination revealed that the lugs were covered with ornamental rubber doodads, which were easily removed with a screwdriver. Upon cracking the lugs with the lug wrench, I encountered something I'd never encountered before (having no experience with Volkswagens)- the bleeping things were lug bolts, not lug nuts. WTF? They came out easily enough... By this time, we had acquired a small audience- dudes like to kibbitz whenever they see other dudes doing dudely things. We were all hanging out, joking about the jack- I dropped a comment about how I'd have felt a lot more comfortable using a three-ton hydraulic jack, whereupon one guy bemoaned the fact that he had three of them at home (being a commercial driver by trade), but that he didn't have room in the car for them because it was filled with his baseball gear.

At this point, I was confronted with the next obstacle- the damn tire didn't come off. The last time I had been involved in a tire change, we had a similar problem, solved with a sharp blow with a post driver, with a wooden board used to cushion the blow. Yeah, the subtle approach tends to work. Not having such a precision instrument at hand, a bunch of us took turns kicking the tire, which made me cringe when I looked at that flimsy jack. I excused myself so I could obtain a can of WD-4O so I could spray the wheel in order to loosen the tire hub. By the time I returned with the can, one of my Chuck Norris emulating comrades had loosed the hub with his mighty foot. Now, it was time to put the new tire on- because of the bleeping lug bolts, it was impossible to simply place the new tire on the wheel and then fasten it- I had to hold the damn tire and try to align it while one of my tire-changing buddies inserted the bolts. Once we accomplished that, it was an easy matter to hand-tighten all of them and then 'crank them down' with the lug wrench. I can't imagine how much of a pain in this ass this would have been if I hadn't have had help.

We then gave the woman some pointers about driving on the spare- it was rated for 50MPH, so she had to take it slow. Unfortunately, it being late Sunday afternoon, none of the local tire places was open, so she had to dive all the way home to Queens. She wanted to give us money for our help (buy yourselves a beer) but we refused to take her money- she needed it for the new tire, and we had fun doing the job and socializing. Every once in a while, a guy's got to do guy things in a guyly fashion. Thank goodness, though, that it was still light out, most of my tire changes have taken place after nightfall.

One lesson I learned (besides avoiding Volkswagens)- this being the second tire change in a row that required some sharp blows to remove the old tire, I went out and bought a dead blow hammer to keep the lug wrench company. Our busy season is coming up, and additional tire changes may be in my near future. Regarding the jack situation, I think I'll have to deal with the shit jacks that aren't worth jack shit- I doubt I can get approval from my department head to buy a decent hydraulic jack on the company dime.