Those Involuntary Twitches

It is somewhat embarrassing to have to admit that the old grey mare just ain't what she used to be. There was a time when my pulse was normally a steady 60-65 and I could count time on it. Not any more. The metaprolol keeps it from racing off the charts, but I can't manage 60 too often any more, and the worst part is the irregularity. I can never tell when it is going to do a double beat or something. That makes fine motor control tricky.

I decided to test my new invention today, and it gave me a perfect opportunity to adjust the sights on the Nylon 66. I ended up firing 35 rounds (shorts, single loaded) altogether. The windage target from Alabama F&G is a great tool! Unfortunately, it can't cure erratic heartbeats.


21 yards (measured)
sitting, no rest
single fire, CB shorts
group is 1.25 inches

The two on the left were heartbeat victims. Their direction probably indicates a leftward pull as I squeeze.

I know I got that groundhog the other day. I heard the thump and saw him flinch. And the crosshairs didn't move off him the whole time. I just can't find the body.

Oh, yeah. I was shooting right-handed. I'm still finding it tough to find the target quickly, but I'm adjusting.

Monkeys, and CoCoNuts too...I Could Go Bananas

I can imagine Adam and Eve talking about their family tree. It was really a one-way street, all branches and no roots.

I finally got in touch with k_c34, who told me a bit about herself. I'll have to go over that with Grannie. I realized that for some of these people, the folks I grew up with are somewhat legendary. They lived four and five generations back. That makes me old, especially when I read their stories and am jarred by the fact that I used to visit with that person's great-grandfather.

Anyway, my concerns over Geni.com were enhanced over the weekend when Maria started her own tree and invited me to join it. I discovered new weaknesses in Geni's security as a result of the merge of trees. HP got to see what the tree actually looked like while he was here; his comment is under the previous post.

Then he sent a followup email :

ok... i'm looking ALL OVER trying to find that stuff you showed me on Geni that uncle John and Maria posted, but I can't find it. Do I HAVE to create an account to be able to see it and FIX it???? What if I don't WANT an account???

I found the stuff Steve Webel posted and have already emailed him about fixing it, but I can't find the other stuff that uncle John posted and Maria updated with totally incorrect info and info about my minor kids that i DON'T WANT POSTED on the internet for their safety and privacy. what gives??? how do I get to this info that you showed me at your house so I can DELETE / edit it?? Do I need to sign up for an account, is that the only way???

hp

and I replied

You be right. The only way you can make any changes to YOUR information is to sign up on Geni. Then nobody but you can make any edits to your profile. Until that time, depending on the permissions level, anybody you never heard of before can edit your profile as long as they are within 4 generations (default) of you on the tree. Example -- Erin Kun's husband's cousin. After all the disarray that was introduced by the merge, I deleted all of the info for your kids except name and birth order (so they would appear correctly in the tree) and reset the permissions so that I was the only person who could change their info in my tree (I could do that only because I put them there). If they are in somebody else's tree, you have to contact them to make any changes.

You can view the tree without edit permission if somebody issues an invitation to you as a friend.

After seeing what the merge did, I am convinced more than ever that Geni.com is a privacy sieve. In fact, I may start a new tree, and not let anybody join it, simply because once they join, they have the capability of adding to the tree and then merging it; it is no longer under the control of the originator. Better yet, there is GPL genealogy software out there (GRAMPS) which is better than anything Geni is using, and its free, and it stays resident on your own machine or server. You need to have X11 installed to run it via the terminal. GRAMPS was written in Python for Linux but there are releases for Windows, OSX, and BSD; the Windows and OSX versions do not have the support the Linux and BSD versions have. That is why it is better to run it under the Mac terminal in UNIX.

Because of the links via John Hunyadi, there are well over 400 people in my tree now, and a large number of them I have never met. The fact that they would have access to information that they could only otherwise get via a court order is worrisome.

I downloaded a GEDCOM file of my tree, and went looking for a GEDCOM reader. Guess what? GEDCOM is a protocol developed by the LDS for their genealogy searches. I wonder how much of the Geni.com stuff ends up in some LDS database?

I wonder when we see the first embezzlement case come to trial where the embezzler was able to hack an account with privacy question information he got about a very distant relative on Geni.com? Take a look at the people who started Geni.com -- PayPal, among others!!

Unmentioned is the little factoid that once you put something in Geni's database, you may delete it from view, but they have the right to retain the information forever. So, once somebody inserts your private information on the web somewhere, it is no longer private, ever again. Delete keys only hide the information from the person at the keyboard. Sort of like closing your eyes to make the "F" on your report card go away.

Then there are the monkeys. We had a houseful overnight. Kids sleeping everywhere. Kids running everywhere. Kids slamming doors, looking for things to occupy themselves with. I began to think it was payback time. My mind went back to the day when John and I went around Grandpa's barn throwing rocks through the windows just to hear the sound of breaking glass. Nothing malicious, just the delight of tinkling glass. Brought to mind by the slamming of doors. Nothing malicious, just the delight of hearing a big bang. Believe it or not, Grandpa Jim understands. He has also gained a new measure of respect and admiration for his own Grandpa, remembering a quiet man who wore a very sick look on his face that day. My ancestors were indeed remarkable people; I have it relatively (there is that word, again) easy.

Crazy Onion Soup and My Relatives

A few years ago, when I first dug up the beds in which we now have the strawberries and raspberries, somebody gave me some "crazy onions" to plant for use as green onions -- like shallots. They grow like weeds, and as the plants mature, they produce heads that contain small bulblets and florets. Some of the bulblets have baby onions; the idea appears to be that the adult onion leaves fall over and the bulblets grow into new bunches of onions.

They are all over the raspberry patch now, and have grow up waist-high, with two and even three generations of onions on the same plant. I was thinking about simply tearing them out, since they are very strong flavored, and, as green onions, somewhat stringy at times.

I got this idea, this afternoon, however. The kiddles were arguing over the pickled garlic cloves in the pepper jar last time they were together, and I began to wonder if the crazy onion bulblets could be pickled like those little pearl onions people buy as appetizers. I went out and gathered as many as I could find, and started breaking the bulblets off and cleaning away the outer skins.

As I realized that I would not have much more than a quart of the little stinkers, I decided I would turn them into onion soup. They are sort of like matryoshka dolls in that you peel away one layer, and inside will be another bulblet, and you break that apart, and inside ... Yeah. These things would make onion soup. but not French onion soup. It would have to be Russian onion soup. Crazy Slavs.



My fingers stink from peeling onion bulblets. The soup was simple -- boiled onions, some beef bouillon, and a touch of salt. We shall consider the consequences later.

Ah, yes. Who Daddy me? Back on 1-5-09 I stated that I thought Geni.com could be a useful and fun idea, but I had some security concerns. Joonyah was of the opinion that putting family information on Geni.com was not too terrible a threat to personal security. I thunk about it, and he is prolly right. If I have the correct information, it is better that I put it there than to let somebody else put bad info up. This is especially the case when I think about the posts from some of the people reading this blog and asking for help in tracking down their roots.

So. I have filled in a bunch of other stuff on my tree. Corrected some stuff that John Hunyadi had wrong. Added information from the Hrubik Reunion booklet from 1984 (when there were a lot more of Dad's generation still around). I will be contacting some of our common tree dwellers with invitations to join Geni and take charge of their own branches. Steve Webel (Bob's boy, for those who know a little and might be interested in more) who is off in faraway China, has put HP and Bek in his tree, mis-spelling her name. Also Erwin and Emily Webel (who are in my tree as well, via my great-uncle, Pal Hrubik). I need to contact him to merge our trees. Also, Emmie (Pamer) Hill, in my tree (via Anna (Knab) Hill, my great-aunt), is the sister of George Pamer (in John Hunyadi's tree, via Dave and Barb), and he and I are going to have to work out how to do the merge (more like a loop maybe, since our trees are already merged). I know that some of Uncle Dan's grandchildren and great-grandchildren are interested in finding family also.

I have heard that everyone in the world has at least one common ancestor if you go back only eight generations. Playing with only four or five generations, I can almost believe it.

'fore I fergits

Just for fun...

"Who Daddy You?"

Uncle Mike was our favorite. He was full of stories, and when he and Dad got together talking about their boyhood, it was a real hoot. They told of running wild through the Virginia woods, doing all the things little Hrubik boys do when nobody is watching (apparently Grandma was too sick most of the time to keep up with her little jungle critters). Girls, when you marry a Hrubik and little boys come out, your life will forever after be interesting.

Uncle Mike often told how they found Civil War relics -- the Battle of Seven Pines was fought partly on their farm -- and how he fell into a trench one day. Then there was the time the boys wandered up to an old cabin, and the man sitting on the porch asked only one question, "Who Daddy you?". As Uncle Mike told it, it scared them, both because of the man's fierce demeanor, and the fact that they spoke hardly any English at that time. All three, Emil, Mike, and Carl, streaked back off into the woods.

Uncle Mike and Dad laughed over that one. I first heard it when I was about 7 or 8 years old. When I was 8, I bought my first bike, a 26" Huffy Roadmaster, from my classmate, Tom Goila, who lived about six or seven houses south on Dover Avenue. Once I had that bike, I became the milk and bread delivery system, riding down to the Lawson store where Diagonal, Mercer, and Bisson came together.

For a while, there was still a vacant lot on Peerless, and we preferred to ride through that rather than go all the way to Mercer on Bellevue, but when a house was built there, we had to stick to the street. That took us past the Pure Oil station on the north corner of Mercer and Diagonal.

Pure Oil, you say? What is that? Back in the Good Old Days, when American companies worried mostly about selling products to Americans, we had all kinds of enticing labeling. I remember when "EXXON" began -- the name was chosen so that people in foreign countries (that is what we used to call world markets) would not find something offensive about it in their language, and we Americans were too stupid to be offended by that. Ah, yes, Pure Oil, with its round signs, and pretty blue lettering, and the bright blue trim on the buildings, even blue roofs.

One day the tire on my bike was a bit low, and I stopped at the Pure Oil station to fill it. This was right after one of Uncle Mike's visits. There were several men sitting around in the garage, and after I returned the air gauge (oh, yes, they would let you borrow the gauge to check your tires!), one of the men stared at me and growled, "Who Daddy you?". His gruff manner, and his accent, both matched exactly the man in Uncle Mike's story. I told him who my Daddy was, and rode off wondering whether or not the incident was some sort of set-up arranged by Uncle Mike.

Old stories are part of family lore. That's part of why I bother with this blog. It also leads to some interesting interchanges, like the dino discussion some time back, where a crack about a news article actually had both researchers (from England) posting here. The family history stuff seems to get people stirred up a bit. Mention of place names, like Glozan, and Mokrim, and Henrico County, and Harrow, gets picked up by webcrawlers and the blog ends up as a search result.

Unfortunately, it is hard to track some of those folks down. Or, maybe, once they hear from me, it scares them off. The September 23, 2006 post (right after the taped interview with Grannie Annie) pulled in this:

miklovic said...
Iam a member of Miklovic family that has theirs roots in Hlozany. One of my grandfathers relatives lives Hlozany in 1930 and immigrate to Canada. Now I am trying to get to contact with Miklovic family from Canada if you could help me.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2008 4:19:00 PM EST

Grandpa Jim said...
Hey, there, Miklovic. You need to fill in more of your Blogger profile; it would be nice to have a name and email address to reply to.

What was the name of your grandfather's relative?

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 29, 2008 10:57:00 AM EST

miklovic said...
name was Jozef Joe

TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2008 5:08:00 PM EST

miklovic said...
my e-mail is miklovic2001@yahoo.com and my grandfather relatives lives in Harow

TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2008 5:09:00 PM EST

Anonymous said...
Today is June 2/09. I just found this site and am so thrilled that I did. I was born a Cipkar. My parents are Paul and Kata from Harrow. My grandfather is Paul who was married to a Suzana. They came from Glozany and my great grandfather's name was Stefan who was married to Ana. Apparently my great grandfather held a government office position in Glozany. I would love to trace my family tree and when I saw this information on the web, I was thrilled that possibly I may be able to get some further information about my family. I see that these postings happened in 2006. If you could provide any information to me, I would greatly appreciate it. My email is k_c34@gmail.com

TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 2009 1:02:00 PM EDT

So I called Grannie Annie and asked about that. We finally got it figured out. k_c34 is just slightly off; her great-grandfather Stefan is Mom's Uncle Steve (her Dad's brother). I sent a reply email,
but got a Mailer-Daemon reply that the email account does not exist. So, k_c34, if you are reading this, you know what happened.

Then, to top it off, a few hous later I got this, as a comment in the May 30, 2009 post:

Jaroslav said...
Hello I am writing you from Serbia, my grandfather was Samuel Miklovic from Glozan or Hlozany on Slovak . I am searching form some relatives in Canada , my grandfather was tailor like his two brothers Jano and Emil

TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 2009 5:33:00 PM EDT

Jaroslav needs to also fill in his blogger profile and provide an email address. Unfortunately, most of what I know about the Miklovics would fit in a thimble. Joe Miklovic's kids, John, Mary, and Susie are the ones I knew -- John Miklovic married Mary Cipkar, John Cipkar married Mary Miklovic, and Steve Cipkar married Susie Miklovic. They had a cousin, Ed Miklovic, who lived in Union City PA. That's all I know, folks.

Anyhoo, gotta get back to making sawdust.

A Spud Investment

This Wooly Bear thinks it might be a hard winter. Gotta store up some 'taters. Went to Aldi and bought a 10 pound bag of russets (gen-yew-wine Ider-hoes, according to the label) for $2.99. Made sure they had cute little eyes that looked like they could sprout if given some dark moisture.

Cut them up, with at least one eye per chunk.

Stuck them into the row, about 6" - 8" apart. Roughly half the bag planted two rows about 30 feet long each. This is a new bed, special for spuds this year. We'll see how they do.

This is also a new bed, with the broccoli and cabbage plants.

The garden planted itself the other day; a row of Blue Lake bush beans, two rows of wax peppers, a row of Rutgers, double row of onions, half row of jalapenos and half row of banana peppers, row of beets, row of Roma tomatoes, row of parsnip and rooted parsley. Still have to stick in the cucumbers and carrots. I think the blueberry patch will be a good spot for a few hills of Charleston Grey watermelons, and I need to locate some spots for the bush butternut squash and the Big Max pumpkins.

The strawberry beds are looking pretty. Almost all the grape cuttings appear to be rooting. Maria said hers failed to root. These will have to go to new homes come the fall.

And ... my new pegboards are up in the garage, and the baseboard is done in the downstairs bedroom and dining room.

I Needed That Nap

I started about 10 AM, and finished just after 3 PM. Then I showered and took a nap.

The Jonathan

and the Golden Delicious

and the Rome. They have never set fruit so heavily before. I sprayed (petal fall) yesterday. Lord willing, we will have apples to eat in the fall.

Time to eat the lettuce now.

It goes good with eye of round. And some fresh asparagus. Washed down with a cold Bud. YUM!!

The tomatoes need to be turned loose soon.

This was yesterday's project. My Better Half started those boxwoods from cuttings. People just don't appreciate the planning and waiting she has put into this place. She dreams, and sometimes her dreams would be catastrophic if they met up with gravity. My job is to turn her dreams into workable plans, then make the plans work. Some of that has taken years. She has put up with the dirt and the inconvenience, all for the sake of seeing dreams come to life.

I love you, Violet.

Front Views

The azaleas are almost done blooming.

The grass needs to be planted.

Get Your Pork Now

It is time to start another conspiracy theory.

"Everyone knows" that the government is out to control its citizens.

"Everyone knows" that our current administration has been infected (we once used the term "infiltrated", but I think under today's conditions, "infected" is apt) with hard-core anti-people pro-pagan socialists. The current administration is well versed in demagoguery, but sometimes schemers forget that no plan of battle survives contact with the enemy. When you start a stampede, don't try to change horses in mid-stream. (I love those old saws!)

This week we are beset with "swine flu". All over the world, governments are racing to slaughter pigs. The administration is suddenly worried that calling this disease "swine flu" will cause people to avoid pork, and ruin the pork farmers. The price of pork is set to rise, you betcha.

I see the hand of PETA (Pagans for the Extermination of Thoughtful Americans) in this. "Swine flu" is a ploy to stop people from eating pigs. Next month we will have an outbreak of "Mad Cow" disease, and steak and hamburgers will disappear from the menu. Then will come an epidemic of "Chicken Pox", and all the Illegal Aliens working at the chicken processing plants will be out of their jobs and eligible for a stimulus payment of some kind.

Yup. Grandpa Jim has it all figgered out. Conspiracies Unlimited, that's me. I guarantee that you will find it difficult to tell when I am serious and when I am delirious.

Stay tuned as I guide you into more lucidity than any Compact Florescent Light could ever provide.

Ooooo... another brainstorm... space aliens from Mercury... CFLs... there will be a shortage of tinfoil hats...

"Flat Pimento 1992"

The printing on the piece of paper towel brought back fond memories. My Dad, carefully recording in detail the events of his life, spoke out of the past.

The story : Dad loved his garden. He especially loved his peppers. Unlike his son and his grandsons, he tended to avoid spicy peppers. He liked his sweet and meaty. Sometime in the mid-1960's, he was given some small bell type peppers by one of his co-workers. Dad enjoyed them, and saved the seed, year by year selecting the sweetest and thickest-meated of his produce.

Every Spring he would begin his ritual. He soaked the pepper seeds for a day or so, then planted them in a shallow container under the florescent lights in the kitchen. Once the second leaves appeared, he would fix up the cover on his cold frame, and transplant the seedlings to await the last frost. (I'm not sure; this could be hereditary behavior. If so, my children-in-laws are in for some fun.) Typically, Dad would set out 50 or so of his sweet pimento plants in the garden.

As noted above, Dad selected for sweetness and thick walls. The peppers would mature at about 2-1/2"-3" in diameter, and were flattened, about 2" high. Even when green the peppers were great snacks, and as they ripened and turned red, their sweetness increased. We picked them and ate them like apples, right there in the garden.

After Dad retired, he and Mom started spending their winters in Phoenix. Sometime around 1997-98, he decided that it was time to stop worrying about being home in time to plant peppers in the Spring. He gave his seed to a family friend, with the requirement that she would start the seeds and give him a few plants for his garden after he returned from Phoenix. Life has no guarantees beyond dying; the friend did just that over the Winter and Dad never did get his pepper plants. Worse, he had given away all of his seed, as far as he knew. Every Spring for the next several years, he would recount the tale of the lost seed; he missed his peppers.

The other day I called Mom to see if she had any caraway seed. I was looking all over for some in the grocery stores. (Hey, why pay Big Money® for a packet of seed when you can get lots and to spare in a bottle of spice-grade condiment?). Yes, she had some, how much did I need, (a teaspoon full was plenty to start a caraway patch in the garden), and by the way -- she found a bottle with a note in it. "Flat Pimento 1992".

I went to see what she had. Wrapped in the paper towel were several hundred seeds that Dad had dried and stored 17 years ago. He had apparently forgotten they had been saved.

Taking the seeds home, I cut a paper towel in half and laid it in a dinner plate, scattered about a hundred seeds on it, folded it over, and added water. The seeds soaked for about 48 hours, swelling and developing the little pimples that would become rootlets. In the cloudyhouse I made a furrow where the first lettuce crop had been. (Oh. Forgot to tell about that. I transplanted a few dozen each of romaine and simpson and about sixty-five buttercrunch plants to the other side of the cloudyhouse, leaving a space for some more seed starts. Maybe we have salad soon?). Into the furrow went the soaked seed. Now for the wait.

Whazzat noise? Did I hear Mixie cheering?

Buttercrunch, Romaine, and Black-seeded Simpson.

From the far end : the Flat Pimento furrow, a row of Calabrese brocolli, 2 rows of onions, a row of Golden Acres cabbage, 2 rows of jalapeños, 2 rows of Rutgers tomatoes, 2 rows of spicy wax peppers, 2 rows of Roma tomatoes, 2 rows of spicy banana peppers, a row of chilis. Figure about 100 seedlings per row. I need more ground.

... padded from both sides ...

Way back on February 27, 2007 -- (Man! Over two years ago!) -- I stated that I had decided to read On the Origin of Species in order to be a fair critic of Reverend Darwin. (What? You had no idea that he was a clergyman?) In that post I commented that I had fallen asleep in the first chapter.

Beloved, it does not surprise me that Charlie D. gave up theology for biology. I thought I was bad, based on the number of nods per minute the pulpit sleepometer records. Not only did I fall asleep in the first chapter, but also in just about all of the chapters. In fact, a week or so after that fateful post, I fell asleep in Chapter 7 and put the project on the back burner.

As it happened, about a month ago I figured that I had better finish the project, so I started over again with Chapter 1. A few days ago, I finished Chapter 14, the final chapter. I have now read the entire unabridged first edition of On the Origin of Species.

Darwin's theory of progressive change was rooted in his familiarity with the selective breeding of domestic plants and animals. As I mentioned above, he was a clergyman, and also quite religious. It is clear, however, that his religion was one that centered around a worship of Nature, and it is interesting to read his statements that seem to personalize Nature. In fact, and this will anger some of the E Camp people, Darwin makes statements that imply that Nature has produced similar adaptations, in widely separated and different species, by some sort of Intelligent Design. Of course, he also makes the statements which infuriate the C Camp people, namely, that there is no reason to invoke special creation of species when his theory adequately (in his mind) explains the origin of all species.

Now I will upset a number of people.

I think Darwin has postulated a working explanation for change -- spell that e-v-o-l-u-t-i-o-n -- which is rational and has quite a bit of utility. The concept of natural selection was founded in the observation that humans selectively breed their domestic stock and create new varieties by keeping the stock with desired traits and eliminating the stock that does not have those traits. To that end, his theory makes sense.

Darwin, however, made (and admitted to) a number of assumptions which were necessary to accept his theory and reject special creation. He assumed that geological change occurs steadily and peacefully, without any catastrophic events. This we know to be untrue. He also assumed an extremely old age for the earth, which he inferred from geological strata but which scientists today infer from radioactive decay and from a "flat space" concept of the universe, both of which suffer from being rooted in additional assumptions.

Cascading assumptions create superstition, not science.

True science draws its strength from an understanding of probabilities. A "law" of science is a statement of something that has been observed to be true on every occasion. If there is one chance out of an infinite number of trials that the "law" does not hold true, then it must either be rejected or revised to account for the exception. Without a witness to an event, causation cannot be proven. [Failure to abide by this dictum in the legal arena, by embracing the concept of "circumstantial evidence", has without doubt been responsible for the wrongful conviction and execution of innocent people. It is for this reason that God required that at least two witnesses were necessary for a capital conviction. The use of "circumstantial evidence" in a court of law is a perversion of justice based on a thorough misunderstanding of the nature of science.] The use of evolution as a tool in the biological sciences is extremely important, but it can never point to first causes due to the assumptions which must be made regarding events for which there have been no witnesses.

Therefore, each person has a choice set before himself. He must decide whether to believe that God created and maintains the world by His design and ability, or that "Nature" has accomplished the same thing through pure serendipity. Both positions require a leap of faith; at the bottom of every logic pit are the bones of belief.

I choose to believe that God created and maintains the world. I also choose to believe that He operates through "natural selection", with the understanding that He not only does not "play at dice", but there is no such thing as pure randomness.

If you think such a position points to a careless and unloving God, beware, for He created me as a facultative carnivore, and I work toward the extinction of less adaptive varieties by eating them, and He blesses all my meals, for which I thank Him.

So, now that I have refused to walk down the middle of the road, and indeed, have set off cross-country like a bee going from flower to flower, I expect to hear from all those who believe they are on the Narrow Way simply because they think they have avoided the Ditch. Be careful that you know the difference between the two.

Da Newz

Thought I'd throw in a picture of another finished product.

Stuffsapoppin in the cloudyhouse. Also transplanted the garlic seedlings that got started in the asparagus patch. All 184 of them.

I Apologize

Maria called to let me know that she was disappointed with my post. She made some very good points. I will turn off the sarcasm and disrespect when mentioning the President.

I Made a Moofie

I done did it. I turned the photos I took while changing the front brakes on the ZX2 into a narrated slideshow and exported that into an mpeg-4 movie. It is roughly 75 mB long, about 7-1/2 minutes. I was going to upload it to Blogger, but then I read the terms and decided that I will post it to my web space. Anybody needing to look at it can email me for the URL.

Just call me Cecil B, baby. I have reinvented Hollywood.

... but will HE bow to the pirates?

It cannot be easy being el Presidenté King of the United States. People expect heroic actions. It is a far cry from Neighborhood Organization.

President King Obozo has some life or death decisions to make. The captain of a U.S. flagged vessel is being held hostage by pirates who boarded his vessel but were eventually persuaded to leave. Too bad Obozo never studied military history.

Vessels like the Maersk Alabama which are flying the flag of the United States are part of the United States Merchant Marine. Under long-standing maritime practice (for historical background, study the Barbary Wars), it is considered an act of war for any military force, whatever its composition, to attack a vessel which is part of the United States Merchant Marine. Had the U.S. Congress officially declared war on "terrorism", the Merchant Marine at that point would have become an arm of the U.S. Navy.

Even without a declaration of war (the Barbary Wars were not declared wars, either) the existence of a state of war can, de facto, place the Merchant Marine within the Navy. Since Congress has not seen fit to declare any war since June 5, 1942, the de facto War on Terror, funded by Congress (but somehow recently declared to be finished by the Executive Branch) makes the Merchant Marine a de facto arm of the U.S. Navy.

President King Obozo needs a strict interpretation of the Constitution to pull his chestnuts out of the fire. No one in the Executive, Legislative, or Judicial branches appears to have any idea about what to do. Had the rules been followed, the solution would have been simpler (no guarantee as to the aesthetics is implied here).

Pirates/banditos/guerillas/military forces, whatever, attacking a de facto U.S. Navy vessel have declared war on the United States. The captain of the vessel that was attacked is a de facto naval officer. The attackers, who are holding the officer prisoner, are themselves surrounded and cut off from assistance; they are being ordered to surrender. President King Obozo has two choices : he can try to micromanage the situation alá Lyndon B. Johnson and Viet Nam with the consensus of the United Nations under the guise of there no longer being a War on Terror, or he can restart the War on Terror and turn over the entire situation to the Navy as a combat mission.

Ah, my muse has whispered a third choice. He can vote "present" and delegate the problem to Joe and Hilary.

I Said It Was Coming

I have been telling everyone that although the snow melted and the weather warmed, we always get a snowstorm in April. In fact, it almost always comes in the second week of April.2009

2007

2005

Is this "The One"?

The 11th Chapter of Daniel tells of the King of the South, who seems to be a vain ("his heart shall be lifted up"), irritable person ("moved with choler"). He repeatedly attacks the King of the North, who naturally counterattacks, and, as a result, "... he shall stand in the glorious land, ...".

The King of the South -- the King of Kenya?

Anybody know the Aramaic word for "teleprompter"? Is that a device that allows a person to "speak lies at one table"? Poor Daniel -- he never saw a modern press conference. Or maybe it is us we should feel sorry for?

Ah, well. Read the whole thing. Just remember that its whole purpose is not to provide people with the ability to interpret the future, but for people to look back after everything is finished and say , "Yep, the Eternal said it would happen that way."

Welcome to my Fan Club!

Well, I vanitized my blog by adding the "Followers" gadget. It's under the counter -- yuk, yuk!

Today. Huh!

As noted in the comment to Mickey Axlebender Thirdson, the cloudyhouse got some updates.

Went to old Hilltop High today. It's been 44 years since I first walked onto that campus. Found out that there are three summer sessions, which should allow me to get the 12 semester hours this summer. The 12 hours can be just about anything from the College of Education, or in the Sciences. The TESOL certification program is a 22 hour gig; my 12 hours for recertification could be part of the 22 hours.

Went to Simmons Hall and filed some paperwork to reactivate my student file (hey, it has been 33 years since I last took a course there). It will take a few days to get an ID and password, then I can play with registration.

Looked at the news, briefly, for some comic relief. OBooBoo shook hands with QE2, and gave her an iPod filled with his speeches. He then met with the King of Saudi Arabia, and bowed to that royal highness.

The stock market briefly broke 8,000, then subsided. Whatchwannabet most of the dimbulbs never read more than the headline about the change in accounting rules; the devil is in the details, and when they wake up from this hangover, the market could have the DTs.

Hillarious having apologized to Mexico for 90% of the druggies' guns coming from the US, it turns out that it is 90% of the traceable guns that come from the US; the vast majority of the guns the druggies use come from China, Russia, and the Mexican Army. BATF says Mexico seized 29,000 guns in 2007-2008, that 11,000 were submitted to BATF, and 5,114 were traceable to the US (because they had serial numbers). And, the fully auto versions that the druggies like are not available from the States. Again, just read the headlines, don't worry about the details.

Only 3-1/2 years until we can try to step back through the looking glass, Alice. If it hasn't gone down the rabbit black hole by then.

It's a CLOUDYhouse, Mr. Dirt

I allus wanted a greenhouse. My house is beige. Sort of putty-colored. I'm not allowed to spread dirt on the floors and grow stuff. So I wanted a greenhouse.

I made coldframes in lots of places over lots of time. They just aren't the same. I built a 12' geodesic dome that I was going to cover with plastic, but we moved to Beauval and I left it at my folks' place to rot. I built a mini-greenhouse following the Beltsville plan while we were in Nisku, but it was not even big enough to stand in.

Finally, I decided to keep the dirt out of the house and build a real full-size model of the Beltsville plan. But, problems never cease. Where would I put it? This lot has very little level ground. In fact, the only level ground is probably in the shed floor. When I finally settled on a location that was agreeable to my better half, my project had shrunk from 12' long to 8' long due to the slope of the back hill.

Nevertheless, I set to work. Originally, I figured I could get away with three courses of 2 x 6 treated center-match in the base. Wrong. The slope was just steep enough that I had to increase the base to four courses. The project moved in fits and starts, but now, after about 3 weeks and $200 worth of material, it is done. Well, sort of. Have I ever completely finished a project? Door latches? Hinges on the vent panels?

But, as you can see, it is not a green house. It is a clear house. But not entirely that, either -- sort of a cloudy house. Which is fitting, because when the sun is shining, and I walk inside, my glasses fog up from the moisture. It actually rains (ah, I exaggerate, it drizzles a bit) inside my cloudyhouse.


This afternoon we went to Copley Feed for some seed. I am preferring open-pollinated varieties of everything; Rutgers tomatoes, Roma tomatoes, Calabrese broccoli, stuff like that. We might need to save seed, depending on what our silly Congress regulates next.

When we got back, I seeded a wee bit of Buttercrunch, Black Seeded Simpson, and Romaine lettuce, a row of broccoli and of cabbage, and two rows of onions. I will start soaking the tomatoe seeds and the pepper seeds tonight, for planting tomorrow.

As to other stuff. The Ohio Department of Education says I can reactivate my certificate if I take 12 semester hours, submit to a criminal background check, and pay $200 bucks. I'm planning to go see an academic advisor at UA in the morning. Of course, I have an ulterior motive. Michelle said she would go back to school when I did. Pony up, Miz Horsearound.

Oh, yeah. Since I am a Golden Oldie, I am eligible to audit any course at UA that has room, for free. If I sign up and register, I can use the library and pool and all the other good stuff. Maybe I can audit a few law courses and find out how to file class action suits against politicians.