Embrace Temporality

Didn’t write yesterday because, as I said in my sign-off Friday, I was livid about a work situation.

First, if you schedule a meeting for 1500 on a Friday afternoon, you’re an asshole. Second, my general attitude towards meetings was very much in play. You need to publish an attendee list, take then publish minutes. If you don’t do that, you’re wasting the time of all but about the five most-active participants.

Unfortunately, I was one of those five most-active on something I hadn’t really been following all that closely.

The solution isn’t that difficult, but you have to know what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it.

Lots of thoughts this week about how there’s so little appreciation of things that don’t last.

Figure out what’s the problem you, and your team, are trying to solve. Solve the problem. Leave. None of the particulars about how you fixed the problem are important.

And they shouldn’t persist.

Though I was never even an adequate programmer, I’d understand that you don’t import libraries that you’re not going to use, then leave them around forever.

Oh, look! There’s a smaller library that’ll allow you to do what you were trying to do more efficiently. Nawp. Can’t use that. We use this library. There’s no other way to do it. Further, still, we don’t have the slightest clue about what we’re actually trying to do. Nope. We use this tool.


Imagine refusing to use a toilet if the toilet wasn’t the manufacturer you prefer. Or if the toilet paper was different.

But that’s where things are so often in big IT.

We have to buy this expensive stuff. There is no alternative. Here’s an old document that says you have to use the expensive stuff.

To. Do. What?

Somewhat-related, I suppose. The Marines passed their audit. The RON PAUL chorus will say about as much about that as they’ll say about the rallies in support of Ukraine yesterday.

But their foreign policy experts, who you can see if you take an Uber in Austin, said Russia was going to win quickly after they weren’t going to invade.


I still haven’t filled out my ballot so I can vote in my heavily-gerrymandered district against someone in the uniparty.

It’s really not that big of a concern, I guess.


Trump won South Carolina. Bigly. So another election where there’s nobody I’d even consider voting for.

Rambling. Time for coffee.

You Can Leave Pt. ##?

I was listening to this today.

I did post some response there, but it’s another example of something that goes to what I’ve been on for a long time.

If you don’t like me, great. Please calmly let me know, and I’ll just go somewhere else.

When I say, “you can leave,” I do take that advice, myself. If you’re firing employees for something as innocuous as refusing to be physically attracted to a member of the same biological ses, again, please just be up front with that so I can not give you any of my money.

Along the same lines, you can refuse to do business with places that do what you think are the wrong things. For an example of a place trying to do the right thing, look here. For one who didn’t, there was this.

In both circumstances, the owners should have:

  1. Apologized
  2. Fired the staff who caused the issue

You don’t have a right to a job. If you refuse to work, that’s fine. You quit.

Don’t Believe I’d A Told That

Callback to the late, great Lewis Grizzard.

Kinda fits with what I’ve been listening to, today, surrounding Rachel Dolezal, as well as somewhat came out during the Fani Willis disqualification hearing.

Call me a prude; I don’t care.

There’s things about you that you should keep to yourself Nobody needs to know how you look, what your sexual proclivities are. I really don’t want to know about your personal activities.

If that makes me a prude, whatever.

If I’m lucky enough to see your normally-covered bits, or know about your sexual habits, it’s because you find me special enough to share that with me. If I accidentally catch a glimpse of something that you haven’t willingly shared with me, privately and personally, I’m not going to obsess over it.

Horseshoe Theory

it’s Saturday, so that’s when I write.

Yesterday, I went an had MRIs following the medication switch over the summer. I really don’t know if there’s been any progression. The Keysimpta was brutal on the first half-dose, but i barely notice it now. This last one made me feel kinda lousy, but that might have been due to something else.

We we’ll see. I need to work getting the CDs sent off to my docs for review, though I did put them up on one of my VPSes so they could download.

We’ll see how that goes.

And figured out what the issue I’m seeing with one of my VPSes is. Pfft.

I hate BIND Sofa King much

But that was actually an issue with the domain registrar. Why they switched the nameserver records again is beyond me.

Hopefully it’ll get straightened out soon.

Why I’m continuing to do all of this myself is a really good question. Kind of speaks to where I am with so many things in life.

What is the value of the time that I’d spend doing these things?

I just don’t know.

At one point, I think I enjoyed this stuff. I’m not sure I do anymore.

What better could I be doing with that time? Um.

I’d probably listening to podcasts, and watching TV.

As far as what I’ve consumed lately, following the end of the NFL season.

No OP Live tonight. The Shane Gillis SNL isn’t until next week.

Kind of caught up on Normal World. With company around, I stumbled across The Big Door Prize.

And I’ve kind of lost the bubble on where I was going with this.

Listening to other coverage of a lot of the things brought up in the latest Fifth Column.

Navalny’s death probably ought to give Elon Musk more than a moment’s pause about Tucker Carlson.

Not Getting It

Follow-ups to yesterday’s entry.

I get why everyone interviewed is upset. Suicide is horrible.

But there’s something big missing from what these amazingly-knowledgeable educators absolutely are missing.



These ardent academics blamed everything they could think of for these suicides. Except for the policies they fucking set that sent people into unnatural isolation.

I really haven’t felt myself needing additional human interaction, but I’m weird. I know that. I admit that.

I can go weeks at a time without face-to-face contact with others. When I was in college, much of my time was spent by myself.

I’d have one or two breaks an hour in the middle of the night. I’d listen to the stations’ programming in monitors while I was doing my college research, and writing papers.

But I’m fucking weird. Most people can’t do that. On my nights off work, about my only interaction would be with the clerk at 7-Eleven or the diner.

Whatever. I’m comfortable with that. Most people aren’t. Most people can’t deal with just being completely without seeing others smile more than a few times per week.

This doesn’t have anything to do with the lack of minority representation among your faculty. It’s not because of systemic racism.

You did this; this is your fault.

I’m sorry if saying that bothers you, but it’s the truth. There’s people, including more than a handful of your students, who are dead directly because of what you did.

But you’ve got lots of letters after your name, so you can’t be responsible for anything bad. You’re a good person, and you were only looking out for others protecting that from a virus that probably wasn’t going to kill them, or cause significate harm.

You did this. You are responsible. Admitting your culpability is the first step in not repeating the mistakes you make. You did make them. I know I did. I admit them.

Maybe if I’d been rich, healthy enough to buy more, I’d feel absolved.

Back On Track

I think my jaunt to the Gulf Coast in a few weeks is the only thing on my calendar to which I’m really looking forward.

Maybe I did reword that sentence because I was thinking of something.

Kind of distracted this week with an insane work week for both me, and my wife.

Focus kind of disrupted by news from my old boss, who I’d emailed with an odd story about a radio tower being stolen in Alabamastan, about the death of the co-owner of the radio stations where I’d worked pretty much through college, and for a souple of years after.

Lisa was always very nice to me, and I’m very sad she’s gone. The first time I went back to visit after I’d left for the wild world where I’ve been for almost twenty years, she saw me in the lobby, and excitedly waved me in to her office.

How do you like your new job?!

I really like the work I’m doing. Not very happy with the company, but doing interesting work.

Her (then newly-ex) husband chimed in wryly, “They’re missin’ payroll.”



I don’t know that I’ve got a ton here about my travails that’d follow with that company. I’m not dissatisfied that last news I had about he company president, he was living with his daughter in San Diego after his hippy wife had left him.

No, I’m not going to withdraw the aspersion about her. No shit, he actually was making business decisions based on what her medium in Sedona had instructed.

All that said, I was able to gain some knowledge while dealing with that less-than-ideal situation. Hopefully it’s served me somewhat later in my work life.

Towards the end of my time with that company, I was cashing my paycheck at their bank, then driving to my nearest credit union an hour away to deposit the cash.

Travelling on a crowded Interstate with hundreds of dollars in your pocket is more than a little uncomfortable.

But I got through it all. While I have some ill-will, none of it is directed to the radio world I left in 2005.

Listened to this during the first part of my writing.

I understand where Stockman is coming from, and generally agree with his analysis. I don’t agree that RFK Jr. is the answer.

Vote against the worst.

Looking at what’ll be on my ballot in November,

  • Biden
  • Trump
  • RFK Jr.

Cornel West might well be on the ballot. The Libertarian Party likely won’t be because of the unmitigated disaster the Mises Caucus has unleashed.

Much like I would have if I was voting in the Nevada Republican primary, I’d probably vote “none of the Above.”

I should go try and prepare some for that big football game that shall not be named.

Don’t really care who wins. I’ve felt that way this entire playoff.

Skeptical Sunday

Finishing up Things Fell Apart Season 2. I understand where he’s going with it, but I guess I see a bit of a middle way with it?

Okay, there’s overreactions, certainly.

At the same time, if you’re writing something, and you portray yourself as a “thought leader,” you have to assume that there’s some gravitas that goes along with that.

If you don’t know, or wouldn’t ever do those things, you shut the fuck up.

If you can’t help yourself, you have to repeatedly add disclaimers in and around what you say.

Maybe it’s even more important when you’re with a governmental, or quasi-governmental body.

My reaction to so many of these things lately, especially when people are calling for untested policy prescriptions, is you’ve decided you’re not going to try to convince me to do what you think would be best. You’ve snitched. You’ve called the cops. Down to the point where the cop shoots me, I want you to speak through the sequence of events.

Taking things to the bitter end state makes people really uncomfortable.

But it can eventually help. Okay, Ms. Real Estate agent, you’ve scored this house for me in a teaser interest rate. What happens eighteen months from now when I can’t make the payments after the rate’s reset?

I’m sorry I made you do math. I know you didn’t do well on that in school. To be honest, neither did I, but I got enough of it to buy a Science degree.

Of course, you don’t focus on worst-case scenario when you’re trying to make the sale. But it there’s a catastrophic result as a possibility, you have to lay that out, show mitigations against it, and show its likelihood.


I’m gonna go take a nap.

Turned Out The Shmoo

Wrap up in a sense.

My legs really weren’t working well yesterday morning, so forewent the talks, and just guzzled coffee (and this very strange gluten-free cranberry-orange muffin) in seating area up front. Telmnstr found a few people he knows, and Squidly1 floated in for a few minutes.

It was fluttering snow…and, as I said, I wasn’t working well physically (and I’m still not a day later), so I cancelled my short-bus ride, and grabbed a ride back to my perch inside the Beltway Swamp

We watched the couple of final things, including the closing from the sofa in the living room. My wife, who was just my girlfriend when she accompanied me to some of the early conferences, seemed to be mildly interested.

But after next January, they’re finished. Maybe someone will work up a replacement. Maybe not. Six of one, half-dozen of the other.

I am planning to go to the final. The trip is a nice respite for me, but there’s often things that leave me just shaking my damn head, sloshing around my already-scarred brain.

I’ve been really digging into heterodoxy lately. There’s certain things you’re supposed to believe, and do but few people really ever quantify whether these things are effective.

But towards the end of the closing, they gave prizes for the lock-picking competitions.

It’s kind of fitting accompaniment to this thing’s tagline. No security measure is unbreakable. That allows you to delete anything, and everything.

So you spread things around so you can reconstruct later if you want or need to.

Listening to this on and off as I write. This kinda plays into part of what I was doing at the hotel, and with the conference. Just pay the bits to grease the wheels, make your experience easier. I bet I could have navigated my suitcase to and drom the hotel room.

But I didn’t.


Because one, my body was rebelling against the strain I was putting on it, and two, paying the fee really isn’t a concern for me, but it might make the day of the recipient. What I paid to save me the pain of doing this, cost me less than fifteen minutes of my work labor.

Just pay it, and move on with your life.

That kind of relates to the Finding Freedom podcast ep. I appreciate what the guest is doing building a different social media app.


A lot of those really bad companiesTM make their money off scanning and selling your information.

Got it.

Pay ’em, and they stop doing that.

I apologize for getting really distracted here.

Shmoocon is, and was a lot of fun. I will do what I need to do to go to the last one next year.

Probably even if they make me wear a face diaper.

Move On

One of my various news sites I follow had something about a Chapter 11 filing for one of the various news sources. Audacy filed for Chapter 11

Reading about this brought back more memories of my days back in radio. Some of the details brought memories flooding back. Obviously, i had some friends and acquaintances at Entercom in Norfolk. I listened to a lot of programming out of WW1/CBS in DC. I actually pursued a job at WRVA in probably about 1999.

I don’t remember much about that. Richmond was really nasty in 1999. I don’t recall whether they didn’t make an offer, or if I turned it down. While WRVA seemed like a better fit for me than where I was at the time, I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of driving from the 804 from Bad Newz several days a week.

Obviously, I’d end up doing that later, but for significantly more money.

My distaste for Richmond stems from my time in Ashland, and some of the stupid stuff that’s come from there in the intervening years.

I really don’t think that I made a mistake by not going for what. But that was the first time when I really felt underpaid. I think I was making seven bucks an hour. And going to school.

But I think about the decisions to stay where I was, and stay in school. And finish a Science degree. Even if my alma mater still makes people say, “huh?”

I would tell my dad that he was right about some of those things, but, well….

Saints didn’t make the playoffs, but they looked good the last few games. Too little, too late, but they’re right where they should be to make big strides next year. See: this year’s Lions. But, of course, they could fall had.

I watched the College Football game last night. Jim Harbaugh has bothered me for a long time I was rooting for Michigan. Of course, President Ford played there, so…..

I was working through with my college football friend. I’m a double-legacy at Southern LandmassMississippi. My recently-mentioned alma mater is Division III, and didn’t have football until my final ywar there.

College football isn’t something I’ve really followed.

My wife follows Georgia, and has since before she attended a D1 school. They only went D1 towards the end of her time there.

But I was kind of rooting for Georgia for her benefit. Lewis Grizzard would write about Georgia football.

So. Whatever. You want to follow a big college football program, that’s as good as any, I guess.

I used to run Virginia and Virginia A&MTech games on the radio back in the day. But really not so much my thing. The game, too, really doesn’t even resemble the pro game anymore. And this is why you see guys like Josh Allen coming out of football powerhouses like Wyoming.

But I guess the reason I was slightly interested in the game was that the game this year wasn’t with an SEC or ACC participant.


I went to bed about five minutes into to the second half. The first quarter was kind of entertaining, but it really wasn’t holding my interest.

Congratulations to Michigan, I guess?

The fight sing repetition reminds me of a band instructor I had in high school who’d gone there.

We practiced that song so much.

Along with On Wisconsin for some reason.

Speaking of music…..

Random aside — she opened for Liz Phair at the show I saw back in November. The show didn’t sound great where I was sitting, but I heard a few things that made me go look her up on Apple Music later. Then I saw that President Obama put one of her tracks in her Top Songs of 2023 list. Listen a few more times, and, yeah, there’s things that stick in my scarred brain. Salad by Blondeshell.

Going to post this to FB, but I can almost guarantee nobody will read this, or listen to the song above. shrug*


More than half the day finished here on the right coast.

I would say that 2023 has been a bit less-eve3ntful than the few before it.

Going month-by-month would be difficult.

Generally, though, the first half of the year was really unsettled; I didn’t know what was going to happen going forward.

I ended up heading to see my mother in March, as my grandfather was worried about her after a few trips to the hospital.

Message the Fantasy Football league where I finished dead last. Aaron Rodgers’s injury on the first drive of the damn season kinda iced it for me very early.

Oh well.

Work, after half the year being in doubt, has been incredibly stressful before December. I’ve checked out a bit the second-half of the month since the HR geniuses stole the equity (read: unused leave) I’d bargained for when I took the gig. Whatever.

Time to figure out what to do for the first bit of the year. Dreading the MRI results in a few weeks.

At the same time, whatever. I’ve done the things I need to do to get us in a good place.

Time to take a break?

But I’m really never going to do that as long as I can type.

This is what I do. Even if I don’t get paid. (And if you’ve been on the Intertubes as long as I have, you’d understand that a .org is for non-commercial endeavors…)