Category: Society

Portrait of a Grifter

This marvelous human being, who I’ll call Erin Skakel, is potentially teaching the children of at least one Glib, but more on that later. In addition to redacting her name, and the names of the neighborhood groups to which she posted (the ones of which I am aware, anyway), I have also redacted her image, replacing it with what I believe to be the original Rosie the Riveter poster art from WW2. I deliberately chose that image because her profile pic is one of her cosplaying Rosie. I find it ironic that the accompanying slogan on the original was “we can do it,” when Skakel’s modus vivendi is anything but self-reliance. Rather the Blanche DuBois sort, our girl, always relying on the kindness of strangers.

That FaceBook post is one of the best examples of writing you will ever see. Seriously. What appears on first glance to be a disjointed stream of conscious rant is revealed upon further examination as a masterpiece of compact, effective prose. Skakel recently posted that paragraph accompanied by a picture (not included, you perverts) of human shins sorely afflicted with a large and severe patch of irritation. Her targets were at least two FaceBook groups for a formerly dowdy Richmond area which recently became trendy and saw its property values skyrocket. Neighborhoods whose lawns are dotted with signs for progressive causes and candidates.

“anyone know the most inexpensive ways to see a doc”

Such an innocent and straightforward request. How could you be suspicious of that, Tonio? How? Brain overheating from too many layers of tinfoil? THC-induced psychosis, perhaps? The poor woman is just trying to see a doctor, for goodness sake.

It fails the reasonable person test that she can’t call around, or surf around on the internet and find that shiznat out. She’s an adult with a college degree and holds down a nominally professional job. Her stated request is for a referral to the cheapest treatment alternative.

“I’m used to just making an appt”

I kept skimming over this clause, filtering it out as “random, self-absorbed, chick blather,” but something about it made me keep coming back to it until it struck me that this was a tell; that she had inadvertently dropped a piece of information which caused everything else to drop into place.

Used to just making an appointment, like she has done some research and found out that the cheapest way to get medical treatment involves getting to a clinic at opening hour (or earlier, because there is always a line), getting on the list and waiting around until your name is called. In the case of the private charity clinic there is paperwork and means-testing and a sliding fee scale for general medical services; I’m unsure about the fee structure of the government health clinic.

So, you see, Skakel doesn’t just want to receive medical treatment, but to do so in a doctor’s office with an appointment like she’s used to instead of waiting around with sick, poor people for what will probably be a long time.

Anyone taking an interest in Skakel’s plight and having internet access could quickly discover that the walk-in clinic at the chain pharmacy will cost you $59.00. Again, she’s a college graduate; she has the internet. She presumably has friends. She could figure that out if she wanted to, and if that was her actual intention. She’s signalling that she doesn’t have the money she needs to go to the doctor. But there’s that looming vacay which she drops to give a sense of urgency to her plight. It doesn’t matter how off-putting it is to certain members of her target audience to be asked to subsidize her vacay, money being fungible and all.

So… I’m a teacher.

Teachers are sacrosanct. Skakel knows that. She leads with that. It’s the first sentence of her post, which is supposed to be the most important part of your message in any sort of pitch. It’s also a warning to not judge her; she knows that would be enforced by the countless right-thinkful people in the neighborhood and that any pushback would only make her seem more sympathetic to the credulous people who are likely to be moved by her tale of woe.

I […] have gotten what I thought was poison ivy but… I’m not sure is getting better or that’s what it is.

Normal people who are looking to earn money quickly often turn to informal unskilled labor such as cleaning and yardwork. But Skakel obviously fails at yard work, and due to the placement of the injuries, is currently unsuited for on-your-knees labor such as scrubbing or weeding. Plus she may not be getting better so it would be cruel to even suggest she perform manual labor while sick. Also, bonus points to her for making that sentence do double-duty both as an expanation of the root cause of her current crisis, and as a gym pass for why she can’t be expected to do, you know, actual physical labor with those gross oozy patches on her shins.

It’s the pervasive sense of entitlement I find most offensive about Skakel and those like her. This attitude is becoming increasingly prevalant in society. On a larger scale this becomes something like the chimeral “living wage.” In both cases there is the pervasive sense that if a person works they should be able to afford a certain standard of living, certain amenities, regardless of other decisions they have made.

I won’t delve deeply into the argle-bargle about Skakel accidentally opting out of her health insurance. It’s just not believable on so many levels. My hypothesis is that she thought her medical expenses would be flat and predictable, opted out of her insurance, and had just enough deducted to cover her monthly meds. But, whatever. Here’s what she didn’t do once she figured out that she’d fucked up – act responsibly.

A responsible person would have set aside money each month to cover out-of-pocket office visits. A responsible person would have gotten a part-time job at the beginning of summer break to earn money to cover unforeseen medical expenses, and perhaps been able to use that money to pay for a vacay once she had health insurance again, but not before. A responsible person would have… I’m preaching to the choir here, people.

I grew up in an apartment complex heavily populated by teachers. Everyone knew that the unmarried women teachers who wanted to get ahead would share an apartment with another girl, hold down a summer job as a waitress, or with parks and rec, etc. If you lived simply you could afford to live alone and hang out by the pool instead of going on a nice vacation. Your choice. The assumption that she is entitled to a vacay, come hell or high water, is baked into everything she writes.

Even though this is an opinion piece, as an author primarily of fiction I cannot help but resolve conflict once it has been established. Be brave, dear readers, as the plight of our damsel in distress is about to be revealed.

Caloo, callay! It appears that our plucky heroine did indeed get her vacation. And how nice of her to check in on us all after the big thunderstorm that rolled through and downed a bunch of trees.

I’m one of those barely make it month to month “ers”

Come again? Doesn’t sound like it to me, hon. Sounds like you are living a quite nice lifestyle since you have the money for vacay and gym classes. Skakel lives in the city of Richmond but teaches in one of the nearby counties. The location of the class she wants to take is in the opposite direction from the county in which she teaches. Suspect that “accountability partner” will end up doing most of the driving.

Thanks to everyone for slogging through a long rant with no laugh lines, tentacles or sex. So here’s a little something that will appeal to most of you.

September 30, 2019
Genetic Genealogy

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I have a dilemma. I would love the information theoretically available from a medical and genealogy DNA test, however I am unwilling to voluntarily give up the genetic material to have it done.*

But, does that really matter?

Probably not.

All it takes is a sibling, a parent, an aunt, a cousin to have given up their own, and I am now effectively in the database anyway.

In spite of my reluctance to give up my own DNA for a database, genetic genealogy absolutely fascinates me. Indeed, I am a member of the International Society of Genetic Genealogy. As someone who has helped adoptees find birth parents, I love the possibilities of the tool. It’s exhilarating to track down and solve family history mysteries and to help people find information they have long sought.

However, I have some very large privacy concerns.

In spite of the existence of the Genetic Information Nondiscrimination Act (2008), if you read the Terms of Service on the various websites, it quickly becomes clear that the services will be doing pretty much whatever they want to do with your most intimate, fundamental information. It would become difficult to track any alleged discrimination back to the test.

Typical statements, these examples from 23andme, which was founded with medical genealogical research as a primary mission:

Genetic Information you share with others could be used against your interests. You should be careful about sharing your Genetic Information with others.

In a following section, however, it goes on to explicitly state:

Further, you acknowledge and agree that 23andMe is free to preserve and disclose any and all Personal Information to law enforcement agencies or others if required to do so by law or in the good faith belief that such preservation or disclosure is reasonably necessary to: (a) comply with legal process (such as a judicial proceeding, court order, or government inquiry) or obligations that 23andMe may owe pursuant to ethical and other professional rules, laws, and regulations; (b) enforce the 23andMe TOS; (c) respond to claims that any content violates the rights of third parties; or (d) protect the rights, property, or personal safety of 23andMe, its employees, its users, its clients, and the public. In such event we will notify you through the contact information you have provided to us in advance, unless doing so would violate the law or a court order.

Of course, everyone here expects that various government agencies have access, or could at any time in the future obtain access, to your information in “private” DNA databases.

I’m sure most of you are aware that law enforcement agencies are already routinely using public genealogy databases to find matches to DNA collected in criminal cases. One of the most prominent examples was the Golden State Killer case.

Within five minutes of reviewing the results, the investigators had located a close relative among the million or so profiles in the database.

…..

Within three years, the DNA of nearly every American of Northern European descent — the primary users of the site — will be identifiable through cousins in GEDmatch’s database according to a study published on Thursday in the journal Science.

This is huge for adoptees seeking birth families, as well as actual kidnapped persons, as in this fascinating and informative case. Of course, I am of two minds about being able to track down birth parents. People who gave up a child while being promised privacy and, perhaps, anonymity have a reasonable expectation that this will persist.

However, I also believe that people have a right to know who they are and from whence they came, and the genetic medical tendencies and/or conditions they may have inherited. There are many cases where having this information has potentially saved lives, in birth families and for adoptees.

How do we balance these competing needs? I don’t know.

What I do know is that the genie is out of the bottle and there is no putting it back in, so I fervently hope society figures out how to manage this. I remain skeptical.

To learn more about this topic, I highly recommend accessing the free resources on the wiki of the International Society of Genetic Genealogy.

* There are various methods available to try to accomplish this anonymously, one of which is simply to buy the kit commercially in a location remote from one’s home with cash and then follow the other suggestions to access the results. So far, it is more trouble than it is worth to me, since there are very few family history questions I haven’t answered in taking my own family lines back 200+ years, and in some cases, far more.

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August 16, 2019
Siblings and Rivalry

Families come in all different packages, especially in today’s world. Many of us, perhaps most of us have brothers or sisters or both. Some have step siblings, some have half brothers or sisters and various combinations of all the possibilities. Some, I believe the less fortunate, are from a one child family. I say this because I was lucky enough to have two brothers, both older.

There were times however that conflicts arose, petty jealousies or maybe out right dislike. My oldest brother, we’ll call him Bob ’cause that was his nickname for Robert, was seven years older than me. That’s a big age difference when one is young. He was in junior high as I started school. While it was nice to have an older brother we really didn’t play together and my first memories of him are probably when I was seven or eight.

Resources were rather limited in our household but it seemed that a teen age Bob had more access to things than I did. In retrospect I realize that older kids have more responsibilities than the younger ones. For example, he might have to stay home to sort of babysit his kid brother(s) which probably he didn’t get compensated for (other than my sparkling personality) when he’d rather have been out playing with his own friends. Teenagers need more trendy clothes, though I doubt they were very trendy in our family. Bob also needed cash to take his romantic interests to the Friday night movie and my Dad would always find him a paying job, baling cardboard boxes at a grocery store or some such thing.

I recall that during WW2 we all played WAR, Bob got to be Mike, the pilot or sergeant while I was always a Kraut, a Hynie or a Nip. I was never on a winning team. Since I didn’t know what any of those were it probably didn’t leave any lasting trauma in my life. I did know that Mike or sergeant was something to aspire to be, otherwise why would he pull rank on me. Sometimes we played a card game called War which was just each player turning a card over and the highest card won the rest of the players’ cards that had been turned up.. The beauty of that was all the broken decks of cards could be used and it didn’t matter. The winner was declared by whoever ended up with the most cards when supper was announced.

Bob was a big kid, played high school football but his academic career was cut short because of algebra. His high school grades reflected more interest in football and romance and he convinced our parents that he should drop out of school half way through his junior year and join the army the day he was 17.He was disappointed that his birthday fell on a Sunday but Monday morning Dad took him downtown Minneapolis to the recruiting office and signed his permission and Bob had his wish come true. Thus ended any sibling rivalry,if there ever really was any. I was 10 and though I missed him it wasn’t bad because we had never been friends, only brothers.

Brother William or Bill was two years older and the one I followed around. He was sort of my teacher or coach when it came to sports. He too was a big guy for his age but we played together, handy to have a play mate in the same house. After Bob had left Bill and I didn’t have to share the same bed, Bill moved into Bob’s area, I stayed in the bedroom.

Bill wasn’t academically oriented either so my mother would tell me to help him with his math homework but I usually just ended up doing it so we could get outside faster to play . There wasn’t really much homework back then, I guess teachers taught during the classroom time.

Hand-me-down clothes were the norm in our household, Bill had grown into whatever Bob had left and my mother was always busy making the larger sizes smaller so the clothes could be used. Because I was a skinny kid not much fit without a major re-tailoring. I was envious of Bill because he seemed so self assured, being bigger and all. He was a good ice skater while I was barely able to stand up. He always got chosen first at our pick up games while I was hoping not to be picked last. No one really is chosen last, the last one standing goes to the team whose turn it was to pick.

It was good though to have a big brother that could guide me through the intricacies of junior high, walk to school and a ready play mate. We had the squabbles like most siblings but since he always won the physical matches I learned quickly not to go that route. I could out debate (argue) him until my mother couldn’t stand it anymore and would either separate us or make us go outside.

My Dad’s health was in decline and we moved from Minneapolis to a farm in northern Minnesoda. It was a cultural shock for two city kids but we took to the rural life in a big way. We’d always had guns but now we could shoot, hunt and fish. The sort of rivalry continued on but now on a more equal footing. I learned to trap, Bill didn’t care much about that. We lived 16 miles from school. Bill was now a senior, big, good looking, and played a good game of high school football and football players could get a ride home after practice.

My folks were not keen on school sports because of the injury possibility and it took away from our work schedule at home. Anyway, Bill’s interest in the ladies continued while I was still a skinny, introverted kid. He graduated, left home but missed his romantic interests and came back soon. By this time I was a very tall skinny introverted kid. Though I was very shy, my SIL, Bob’s wife, had taught me how to dance. Many of my contemporaries were still a little awkward and embarrassed but when the music started I was the first one to get a partner and do some steppin’. Of course, the girls had taught one another how to dance and wanted to dance with a boy and didn’t want to get chosen last or not chosen at all. I was a different person on the dance floor while my brothers were holding back and waiting for a slow tune.

Then school is over, the birds had to leave the nest, learn to fly on their own. As with many families we moved in different directions, my brothers and I rarely got back to see our parents. We seldom saw one another for thirty years and then it was only for a day or so.

As we aged we found ourselves living closer to each other, sort of migrating back towards our roots. I retired near my brother Bill, Bob would make several trips each year to visit, fish and hunt with us. We always ended up at my house, I had room, Mrs Fourscore would put up with us. She said she enjoyed having them around because they ate everything. We would laugh and tease each other again, much as we had done when we were growing up. It was great having two brothers again. We had about 25 good years of camaraderie and then reality set in.

Both left this earthly world about 8 years ago. I hung up my dancing shoes a long time ago. I have two old friends from high school that live nearby, they too have become their family patriarchs and we’ve sort of adopted each other.

I’m grateful for the Glib community, having younger friends even if we don’t know one another on a really personal level. Its a good place to trade ideas, ask questions and not feel so alone in the libertarian wilderness. TPTB have done a magnificent job.

*We’ll be having the Honey Harvest on Sunday, Sep 15^th. All glibs and lurkers are invited. We live in North Central MN, draw a line from Duluth to Fargo and we’re ½ way in between, 100 miles in each direction. Pot luck, family friendly, a little educational. Friends, family and neighbors will be in attendance as well and we hope some of you good folks can make it. It’ll be a great way to meet new people. If you are interested give a shout out for directions.

There are several glibs that should be here so you’ll meet someone you know from these pages.

August 13, 2019
Japanese Swords – Part 2 – What Makes Them Superior?

As in any country, not all Japanese of the top social caste were necessarily wealthy. Towards the end of the feudal era in Japan poor and even destitute Samurai did exist. Many Samurai were just making ends meet and only a few Samurai could afford a sword of high quality. While a low to medium grade Japanese sword was still a marvelous piece of technology for its time it was the finer swords which were truly amazing.

In forging a Japanese sword the master would crouch on one knee at the anvil, holding the red hot billet with tongs in his left hand and strike it with a hammer in his right hand (Japanese of any social standing, had they been born left-handed, were forced to become right-handed). During the forging process there were three apprentices standing around the anvil – one opposite the master, and one on either side. When the master struck the billet they would, in sequence, strike the exact same spot on the billet with larger, two handed hammers.

While common Japanese swords were forged from a single billet, the best quality blades were composed of separate billets of different composition, forge welded together for the end product. Usually this was done with two billets, each having started as a piece of iron forged to a piece of steel, heated, folded over on itself, then hammered together. This folding and hammering process was repeated many times to create thousands of layers within the width of the billet. Two of these iron-steel multi-layered billets would be forged to a pure steel billet between them, then forged into a sword blank. This resulted in a sword having a body of layered iron-steel with a center core and cutting edge of pure steel.

A blade forged like this, when heat treated, would have layers of iron which were still flexible while the layers of steel would be more rigid, resulting in a blade which is much more difficult to break. In addition, forging a blade in this way would align the steel molecules more uniformly while driving out inclusions (microscopic spaces or impurities) resulting in a harder and more rigid material with less tendency to break or crack.

But that’s not all. Japanese sword makers had a unique process for quenching blades which was the same for all Japanese swords. When the sword had been forged, shaped, and ready for heat treatment it was covered in a layer of clay mixed with ash. This layer of clay was about one quarter to three-eighths inch thick. After application of the clay, before it dried, the clay was scrapped off the part of the blade which was to be the cutting edge. When the blade was heated then quenched in water the exposed edge cooled quicker than the body of the blade, making the steel at the edge much harder than the rest of the blade.

When this quenching process is used the difference in hardness shows up when the blade is polished. The body of the blade, being relatively softer, comes to a brighter shine while the harder edge is still duller. In fact, a Japanese blade polisher (not the same as a blade maker) will apply a slightly courser grit to this harder edge area to highlight this difference. The result is a blade with a very high polish on most of the surface with a cloudy finish on the area at the cutting edge.

It was known that meteorite was prized by Japanese swordsmiths for use in making their blades. I have also read that some swords tested with modern equipment have been shown to have chromium in the steel. I have no idea how a feudal era Japanese swordsmith would find and identify natural examples of chromium and then blend it uniformly into a steel billet. I can only assume they had an empirical understanding about how some ore looked different and how that related to the end product.

In the late 13^th and early 14^th century lived a man by the name Masamune who is regarded as the finest Japanese swordsmith ever. In his own lifetime his blades were so highly regarded that after one point he would no longer sign them (Japanese swordsmiths sign their blades on one side of the tang using hammer and chisel) believing that if a person could not recognize the quality of his work that person didn’t deserve to know who made it.

While blade testing in Japan was not particularly common there are known historic examples of this practice. One test involved securing a blade of average quality in a solid fixture and cutting it with the blade being tested. To pass this test the superior blade should not show any nick or crack where it cut the other blade.

Another testing method involved cutting through human bodies. In some cases this was done while executing a convicted criminal. A superior Japanese blade was expected to be able to cut diagonally through a human torso from one shoulder, through ribs, spine, and on through the ribs on the opposite side without damaging the blade. In one legendary case I have read about the blade had the inscription “five body sword” on the tang opposite the maker’s signature. Legend has it that this blade had cut through five stacked human cadavers in a single stroke.

75 years ago US troops fighting the Imperial Japanese in the Pacific often faced Banzai charges of massed troops, some with little more than rifle-mounted bayonets and swords after running out of ammunition. In fact, there was a training film shown to some Imperial troops which described how to disable an American machinegun with the stroke of a sword in which a sword expert did just that with captured American equipment.

During WWII and the following occupation of Japan many Japanese swords made their way to the US – a number of them true museum pieces. There still are some significantly valuable Japanese swords in the US market but you can expect that the best examples of them have already been identified and repatriated to the much higher priced market in Japan. Should you happen to possess or find one and wish to have it reconditioned please understand that only a person properly trained to polish Japanese blades will be able to do the job without seriously detracting from its value. This is a very expensive proposition and only worth it if you have a blade of exceptional value. Any collector can immediately tell the difference between a blade which was polished by a traditionally trained polisher and one which was polished with modern equipment.

August 13, 2019
Sir Digby’s Adventures in Product Promotion, pt. II

It’s your ol’ buddy, Sir Digby, once again. If you remember Part 1, I was about to have a delicious lunch, when I realized I still had a t-shirt with a certain grinning politician that needed to be introduced to the world at large. As I was working on getting the finishing touches of my last article complete, I had a lot on my mind: Where would I go to showcase Gropin’ Joe? How would my first article be received, and, when? Did I just sleep funny, or is that a more serious pain?

Well, my article went up, and I was very happy with the reception (TYVM). I was actually doing work-related training on the day it posted, so, I wasn’t on my regular night shift. I’m not much of a sunlight person, so, I was a bit out of sorts that day, but, very glad it went up in the evening time. I found out that participating in comments about your own article is…strange. Even more so when there are Dem presidential debates going on. Ultimately, it was all good. Although, I will say, some of you seemed like you were hoping I got my ass kicked. In a purple H&H shirt. E tu, glibe?

As it turns out, my schedule that week allowed me to take care of some business that I was not only dreading, but, that I knew would take forty forevers. You guessed it: I had to renew my driver license. If you recall, in my first article, I made a side joke about not going to the DMV in the H&H shirt. Doing so never really crossed my mind, even though I knew I had to do the renewal dance.

I wanted a pic of carousel from Logan’s Run.

Much like Carousel, I wasn’t sure that I would come out of my trip to the DMV office alive. OK; that’s, maybe, a little heavy-handed. However, my previous experiences cause me to view a trip there like I would a trip to the unemployment office—the dregs of humanity, along with some unfortunate souls (like me) having to wade through the dark sea of government bureaucracy. I’ve spoken of my love for my Texas on several occasions. I also warn that, as much of a reputation that the state has earned for possibly being “Wild West” in our collective outlook, we actually do love us some government. More than we should and, more than you might think, if you’ve never been here. Almost 50 years of this, and I continue to be amazed and bothered by it. Technically, I’m a government employee, too, so I see it from inside and out. It’s just that I’m trained to move a little faster in completing my tasks.

I will now try to build you a picture of all this (without my own photos). Driver license offices in Texas—technically, Texas Department of Public Safety-Driver License Division—are at least as much a pain as whatever your state has. There has always been a wait for customers, if you had to go in to one of the offices.

Might as well be.

Even with online renewals, it’s a crap-fest, since DPS requires that you come in on every other renewal. Renewed online last go-round? Congrats! You get to climb on the hamster wheel! I think renewing your Texas CHL is less a pain in the ass, even when you have to re-qualify. At least then, you can pretend the target is IN NO WAY a bureaucrat, or, a state employee…::ahem::

At some point, the powers that be decided that they would give “mega centers” a shot. Essentially, a really big driver license office, based in larger metropolitan areas. I happen to be less than six miles from one of these beasts, so, it was the obvious choice. I had to research online to see where, exactly, it’s located, as I have been by the supposed area many times, and never saw the building. Big mistake. Just look at the Yelp pictures for this very location:

https://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/texas-department-of-public-safety-driver-license-center-carrollton

What the hell was I getting myself into? No—what the hell was I being forced into by the State of Texas? It turns out that, at these mega centers, you can get in line online. According to my supervisor, it has to be done right at opening, regardless of where you are. Of course, when I get online at 7:01 in the a.m., the appointment time wasn’t until almost 2:30. But, I needed to stay up for about 24 hours this particular day, so, why not??

As fate would have it, I was there less than 30 minutes. This includes registering as “arrived” at a computer kiosk, sitting for less than 10 minutes, then, getting ushered with a couple of other people to start a new line away from the others. I was actually sitting down with a clerk in less than 15 minutes. “What? My application? Ack!” I had forgotten to fill one out (FML). The clerk gave me a sort-of sideways glance (was it because of Gropin’ Joe’s visage?), and, with that, handed me a blank form (Go Joe!). I even had my official Texas Driver License picture taken in “the shirt”, and was on my way soon after.

Huh…that was really a big nothing-burger. I think I’m beginning to see a trend with my wearing of these shirts: Other than quick glances at the design, no one was saying squat.

Not the author’s actual eyebrows.

I was going to have to come up with another outing with Gropin’ Joe to complete the experiment, and, I came up with what I figured would be the crowning jewel of this thought experiment. Thing is, I’ve started having monthly dinner-and-coffee meet-ups with a life-long friend/former LE co-worker who has a very libertarian disposition. He tends to joke around with wait staff, especially staff of the female variety, which might be just the ticket for an H&H merchandise discussion. On a side note, I would like to get him posting here; I think he would fit right in with the gliberati, even if he is Tulpa.

The meet-up Saturday rolled around, and we got started a couple of hours earlier than usual. I explained the social experiment aspect of my attire, and what I would be watching for while we were out. He was on-board with my quasi-plan, and, after discussing possibly playing some pool, we decided that the standard places were a fine choice after all, and we headed out for delicious Tex-Mex. But, wouldn’t you know it–our normal Mexican food hang-out was packed, so, we settled on some Mongolian stir-fry.

Tasty Mongolian stir-fry

I hadn’t been to Genghis in a while, and this place always seems to be re-inventing some portion of itself. The hostess was a real pistol, and was willing to joke with my friend, as he started his banter. This would end up being the most promising point in the night for an interaction over my apparel. And, by that, I mean, I am almost positive that she saw my shirt, and was sharing in my friend’s humor a bit. Beyond that? Nada. The meal was good, but, my friend was so exhausted from his week’s work that he didn’t even want to eat. It was also busy enough that we weren’t going to delve too deeply into our usual conversations in the restaurant, so I finished up my bowl, and we headed off to the coffee house.

Home of the bottomless, er…endless coffee cup.

Presuming you don’t know, Café Brazil is a coffee house/diner with (wait for it…) a Brazilian flair. Their food has always been middlin’ to excellent, but, we just come for the endless coffee cups. They usually set out three or so of their blends, their unleaded counterparts, and dairy-based additives. My friend, being a smoker, prefers to sit outside on what passes for their patio. I’m OK with this, even if it is a Texas Summer, although I was a bit worried about our earlier starting time this evening.

It had actually cooled down quite a bit by the time we arrived and took our seats. I mean, it doesn’t really “cool down” in a North Texas Summer, but, this was tolerable. We had our usual discussion about family, work, and just how effed up people are vis-à-vis government power, especially in the realm of law enforcement. Of course, talk like that is inherently boring, and in no way should there be any website that deals in such what builds and strengthens friendships, and I highly recommend that you try it sometime!

Well, the foot traffic was rather light that evening. One of the better things about sitting outside is to see the parade of people without being so close that you inherently get pulled in to any stranger drama, or, having them drawn into yours. This particular location just happens to be a couple of miles from Southern Methodist University. For those in the know, or, who’ve ever been around an American university in a Southern state*, you can probably envision the types that make their way into said coffee-diner. Depending on particulars, my friend has been known to engage with some of these strangers. However, the combination of multiple factors, not the least of which was the dearth of interesting candidates, meant that no friendly banter would be forthcoming this night.

*What’s that? “That image would apply to just about any American university, Sir Digby”, you say? Meh…I don’t get out much.

As you might have guessed, it wasn’t long after this rather humid evening that I received my oh-so-precious license. Since I went into the endeavor with a purpose other than staying ‘street-legal’, I have to say that I’m rather happy with the final product:

The Gropin’ Joe shirt: Immortalized for 5-10 years

OK—only the collar is visible. She’s not Ansel Adams, so I’m not going to down her for that. It was, overall, not a bad experience; much better than the visions that played in my imagination prior to the appointment. I got my permission from my benevolent overlords to convey myself on the motorways, and it only cost me $25. Woo. Hoo.

So; there you have it. The shirts got some quick glances, but generated no conversations. I’m not the most approachable person; I’m no Mr. Suave, to be sure. I did, however, have a pretty wide swath of potential victims, er… takers in my travels, and I would think that I would have had at least just one person express curiosity. But, noooooo! Not these unsophisticated yokels! And, let me assure you: I bathed prior to each outing, so it wasn’t my natural funk driving the masses away. Nor was it the shirts themselves: They are definitely high-quality products, and you, too, can pick up a couple over at www.redbubble.com/people/cprm/. If you’re looking for a comfy, snazzy shirt that supports a fellow glib, and a minimum amount of interactions with strangers is your preference, I highly recommend. My shirts are currently hanging up; freshly laundered, and waiting for their turn in the rotation. If I manage to generate any conversations with either of them, I’m sure I’ll let you all know.

Maybe I’ll take Crusty Juggler with me on the next outing…

August 12, 2019
Motel Living Random Thoughts

People

Pedestrians. The worst place for them is Santa Clara California, signage everywhere, but drivers are assholes, very dangerous for walkers.

Worst pedestrians are in Santa Monica, it’s all about them, signs be damned, and they are all pedestrian favorable, WTF?

People are fat, there I said it, HO LEE Fuck. We are a truly gifted nation.

Waffle House makes a fine biscuits and gravy.

Grifters, it goes from a cigarette to a beer to a ride to 20 bucks for drugs.

Dogs are fine for motels but kittahs, not so much, we sent her back to Cali.

Here’s a dog in action.

You always want to be close to Walmart, everything revolves around them, Target, Home Depot, Panera, Chipotle, Dollar Tree, the list goes on.

Find a good beer store and try the local stuff, if it sucks they always have West/East coast alternatives.

Gallery of Colorado beers I have tried.

Met a man named Sam, he runs the Torture Chamber at the Larkspur Renaissance Fair, nice guy.

Back at my normal job, EMS systems, people complain about the traffic. Yes, it’s horrible but I have one word, you want bad? 210 Freeway anytime.

Moving day is a drag, you start the day before work, reservations, loadout, etc. then off.

Las Cruces, NM

Nice place on the Rio Grande, got a carnitas burrito that was all carnitas, nothing else happened. On Monday, I arrive at the job site to find that the local electricians installed my entire system, which sounds great until it dawns on you who did the work, so I spent the next three days cleaning up the project, and, yes, it works fine.

Bella is a fantastic dog for traveling and living like this, quiet, no potty mistakes while I’m at work, and just a love puppy. We walk and drink a lot, and meet people like Lorenzo.

Lorenzo is an old cholo from Texas, and was working at the missile range. We talked and drank in the evenings about kids, life travel the whole nine yards. Lots of pizza and weed, and good camaraderie, when him and I both realized we would be stuck one more day, barbeque! Cheddar brats and cheddar bacon burgers, a real fun time.

BTW, that’s Erwin our Native American Friend.

Where is Lorenzo? I always ask before taking pictures of people, and tell them I’m a writer, doing writer type stuff, he said no pictures, but yes to the story, and that’s cool. I’m not Time Pool or Dan Rather, just a guy on the road, telling tales from America.

An unafraid roadrunner decided to taunt Bella, so I let her stalk the little shit, and he totally toyed with the dog, funny stuff there.

Off to the Colorado River for family, rest and party; Bullhead City to be precise.

I’m a Rocket Man.

Gallery

I did make it to my daughter’s house, chilling well.

August 8, 2019
Japanese Swords – Part 1 – The Samurai and Their Swords

In the following exposition I will try to explain my understanding of Japanese swords – a subject which first enchanted me about 50 years ago – with common English terms. I will refrain from using Japanese terms when not required.

Understand that Samurai and their weapons were part of Japanese history over several centuries. To say that some item or use never was accepted or it was the one, true item or way a real Samurai would use or act often cannot be pinned down as customs and usage did evolve over time. In this discussion I will mainly be presenting the ultimate condition of the Samurai caste and the swords they carried up to the middle of the 19th century.

The sword was considered the soul of the Samurai. But exactly what was a Samurai?

From the 12^th century until 1868 Japanese society was rigidly structured into 4 castes (with numerous other groups outside and socially beneath these castes) placing the Samurai at the top, followed by Farmers, then Artisans, with Merchants at the bottom. At the end of this feudal period Samurai made up only 7% of the Japanese population. The Samurai and royalty were the only Japanese to bear family names.

In the beginning, the primary weapon of the Samurai was the bow and arrow, with the spear being secondary. The sword was a personal weapon and almost always the weapon of last resort. In combat, should the Samurai run out of arrows and lose or break his spear, upon drawing his sword it was not uncommon for him to discard the scabbard signaling that he did not intend to live long enough to need it anymore.

As you would expect for a country with a strict social caste system ruled by warriors Japan never really knew peace for much of its history. However, for most Samurai much of their time was spent in cities and fortresses which made every day carry of a bow or spear impractical. For this reason over time the sword became their primary weapon mostly because it was what he could expect to have immediately available.

Samurai were the only Japanese who could legally carry a pair of swords – the long sword, either Katana or Tachi, and the shorter sword known as Wakizashi. This pair of swords was the badge of their caste. The Katana differs from the Tachi mostly in the format of the scabbard furnishings – the Katana scabbard was thrust through the Obi (waist sash) with the cutting edge upwards while the Tachi had two metal hangers or attachments with a cord which was to be wrapped and tied around the waist, suspending the blade with the cutting edge downwards. As the Katana was easier to remove from one’s body – something one would do often in an urban lifestyle – it became the preferred long blade over the Tachi. For this reason I will be focusing my discussion on the Katana.

The Japanese sword differs from swords of most other cultures in that it was constructed to be easily disassembled. The entire assembly was held together by a single, bamboo pin. The handle was constructed of two halves of wood, glued and often pinned together in a single unit. It had a flat guard and an end cap where the pommel would have been on a European sword.

The handle had a hole bored through it side to side at a point that corresponded to a hole in the tang. The bamboo pin was sized to fit in this hole and hold the sword assembly together with a friction fit that put slight tension on the tang of the sword.

Japanese sword furnishings are a standard pattern for all Japanese blades from short daggers to immense, two handed swords often longer than the men who carried them. While the pattern was a common standard for any fighting blade the nomenclature had some slight variations. In general, one can expect that each of these items will be ornate and even have gilded features or inlaid with precious metals. I will give the most commonly used Japanese name for each item in parenthesis – but use the English equivalent in my explanation.

Here are the components of a standard Katana – Scabbard, blade with Hit-extension, Washer, Guard, and Handle assembly. Like many old blades the one here has more than one hole showing that it has been re-shaped and re-polished three times. Often this is does when the tip has been broken or damaged and requires a new hole to be drilled through the tang.

Hilt-extension (Habaki) – this is a wedge-shaped copper, brass, or bronze tapered block which the blade’s tang passes through. It is fit tightly to the base of the blade and fits snuggly into the mouth of the scabbard. This holds the blade securely in place while in the scabbard.

Hilt-washer (Seppa) – This is a thin washer which the tang passes through after the Hilt-extension and before the Guard. These would be changed with thicker or thinner replacements as the different components of the handle and furnishings became worn or were replaced over time. It is not unusual for a blade to have more than one Hilt-washer – usually on opposite sides of the Guard.

Guard (Tsuba) – This is the handguard which protects the user’s hand from being struck by the opponent’s blade. The tang passes through this before attaching the handle assembly.

Hilt-collar (Fuchi) – This is a metal ferrule on the handle which goes against the inside of the Guard.

Handle (Tsuka) – This is the wooden handle which goes over the tang.

Sharkskin (Samehada) – This is a single sheet of polished shark (or ray) skin which is wrapped around the handle.

Cord wrapping (Tsukamaki) – The Cord wrapping which goes around the Sharkskin. This is a flat silk or cotton woven cord which is folded or twisted in intervals which gives the traditional diamond-pattern seen on most Japanese swords. This pattern also provides a practical grip surface.

Pin covers (Menuki) – These are a pair of flat metal ornaments, one on each side, held in place by the Cord wrapping. These covered the pin holes and would hold the pin in place should it somehow become loose.

Pin (Mekugi) – This is the bamboo pin which holds the Handle on the tang.

Endcap (Kashira) – This is a cap which goes on the end of the Handle opposite the hilt end. The Endcap is held on the Handle by the Cord wrapping which passes through holes in the Endcap.

Scabbard (Saya) – This is the housing for the blade in which the sword is carried. It has its own group of standard furnishings with numerous examples where some items are omitted.

Scabbards were made of wood and generally lacquered or sometimes covered in metal, or ray or shark skin. These were the primary surface treatments although other finishes or coverings may be encountered. The scabbard has a small wooden (sometimes metal) protrusion (Kurigata) on the outside (away from the body) surface at the balance point of the sword and scabbard. This had a hole for attaching a long cord which could be used to secure the scabbard to the Samurai’s sash when the he was expecting to be moving vigorously. Alternatively, this cord could be used to tie back the voluminous Kimono sleeves when a fight was expected. The cord was tied to the scabbard with an elaborate knot which could be instantly unraveled by pulling on the ends of the cord.

There is one major variant of the above handle and scabbard pattern – a plain wood set which is used for storing a blade and not designed for fighting. The only pieces of the standard furnishings which would be used with this set are the pin and the Hilt-extension. It is unusual to see these decorated.

There were two predominant types of rack which were made for Japanese swords – at the time these were basically furniture, somewhere to put one’s swords when not wearing them. In present time I see these used to display swords but it seems few people, even Japanese, understand the correct way to place swords on these. One common rack is made for two swords held horizontally. This is made for a pair of swords, the Katana on top and Wakizashi on the lower position. Both blades should be placed on the rack cutting edge up. If a Tachi is on this type of rack in place of the Katana the Tachi is placed on the rack with the cutting edge down.

The other type of rack you might encounter is made for a single, long blade and holds the sword upright at a slight angle. The sword would be placed on this rack with the handle downward and the cutting edge towards the rack. This orientation may seem unintuitive until you realize that this would be on a Tatami mat next to you while you were seated on the mat. Preparing to leave, before standing you would first reach for your sword in which case is more practical to have the balance point towards the bottom and closer to you.

I would say something about Ninja swords but in the 50 years I have been interested in Japanese blades, having visited dozens of sword shops and museums in Japan, and in the hundreds of books I have seen in both English and Japanese, I have never seen nor even heard of an historic example. The only examples I have seen are fantasy replicas.

August 6, 2019
Weeping Sores

Imagine if instead of using “micro”, they had gone with another synonym when coming up with “micro-aggression”: Measly-aggression. Lilliputian-aggression. Pygmy-aggression. Any of those would clearly expose the self-detonating nature contained in the concept. Those synonyms also don’t lend the air of scientific terror that “micro-aggression” enjoys. “Micro” evokes similar terms like “micro-organism” which is a potentially lethal creature because of its diminuitive stature. Micro-aggressions are on par with serving E-coli burgers at a Jack-In-The-Box drive through.

Psychologist Derald Wing Sue describes micro-aggressions as, “brief, everyday exchanges that send denigrating messages to certain individuals because of their group membership.” You’ll notice that intent is not part of the equation and that is by design as it renders the perpetrator incapable of mounting a defense. When dealing with E-coli, Mens rea is no excuse for diarrhea. As long as the words or behavior appear on a list cultured in a petri dish at some university sociology department, you’re guilty.

Self-righteous and zealous social movements take kernels of truth and surround them with shit so thick it’s impossible to pluck them out. Assuming a Mexican woman at the hotel is a maid, telling someone they are a credit to their race or asking a black person if you can touch their hair certainly could be deemed offensive. However, they would be offensive only if there is no context which would change the dynamics. If the Mexican lady is wearing an orange apron and emptying a trash can in the lobby, you could be forgiven for believing she isn’t an astronaut. “How dare you assume I work here! Micro-aggression!” she shouts. The problem with MA aren’t that assholes are nonexistent, but rather that the entire concept guarantees you’ll be an asshole in return.

In Meditations, Marcus Aurelius writes, “You have power over your own mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” If there were an AA for MA addicts, the opening prayer would go, “God grant me the serenity to not mistake an offhand comment for HIV.” For any recovering MA addicts out there, I`d like to offer another way of looking at the world: Micro-respect. MR shifts a person’s perspective from finger wagging to chin stroking. The respect comes from waiting for a person to express themselves thoroughly before you jump down their throats like streptococcus.

MR uses the earlier definition of MA with a little tweaking. MR, according to me, are, “Brief, everyday exchanges that send humanizing messages to certain individuals regardless of their group membership.” I can’t go a week without a Japanese person asking me, “Where are you from?” I suppose I could try to get all 120 million Japanese to never, ever ask me that question again. めんどくさい。Rather than pissing blood and assuming that the question is the product of a grave historical injustice, how about I just answer the question and see what happens? In fact, it was the first question the hot young number that became my wife asked me.

Human interactions are messy and festering with opportunities to assign malice to even the most benign questions, comments or behaviors. Sure, MR may allow some comments that are truly bigoted to slip by unchallenged. But, unlike with MR, MA will slap blame on many people that don’t have it coming. There aren’t many cultures that devolved into murderous killing sprees because ten year old boys played “Smear the Queer”. History is replete, however, with many cultures that destroyed themselves by playing “Spear the Unbeliever”.

Links

Derald Wing Sue on MA: https://world-trust.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/7-Racial-Microagressions-in-Everyday-Life.pdf

Examples of microaggressions: www.sph.umn.edu/site/docs/hewg/microaggressions.pdf

August 5, 2019
SLD: The Libertarian Case for Section 230 Reform

There’s a piece of legislation that has been invaluable in the rise of social media, the Communications Decency Act. In particular, Section 230 of the Act says “No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider.” Without Section 230, it’s hard to fathom that Facebook or Twitter would ever have been able to surmount the potential legal liability they would otherwise face from civil lawsuits over IP infringements, libel claims, or threats that are posted to their websites on a regular basis. They’d be potentially liable for whatever anyone decided to post on their sites.
Interestingly, though, the provision wasn’t even created with social media in mind. The Act was passed in 1996, before social media was even a glint in Mark Zuckerberg’s eye. The provision was included in the Act ensure that internet service providers or e-mail providers weren’t liable for anything that anyone decided to transmit on their services. And that makes sense. You wouldn’t hold Verizon or AT&T responsible for anything anyone says on the phone. They don’t control what people say on the phone, so they shouldn’t be responsible.

The internet shouldn’t be any different.

But, as the internet advanced, the logical extension of this principle went to websites themselves. And that still sort of makes sense, at least conditionally. If the owners of the website don’t control what is posted or not, they shouldn’t be liable for what people do post. The key distinction is whether the owners of the website are providing an internet service or whether they are providing internet content. In Fair Housing vs. Roommates.com, the courts said you couldn’t claim to be a service provider if you weren’t a passive pass-through of information provided by others or simply a facilitator of expression, you had moved on to become a content provider and weren’t immune from lawsuits under Section 230.

Today, many conservatives, and even libertarians are concerned about the editorial lines that are increasingly taking hold in the social media universe. In their attempts to filter out “fake news” or “Russian bots” or “disruptive voices” or “hate speech”, they are increasingly deplatforming conservatives and libertarians for behaviors that they show no concern with coming from the left. We know that the social media giants are culturally very much aligned with the “woke” left and many claim that they’re rigging the public discourse in favor of the left.

While some conservatives have suggested addressing this by breaking up the social media giants or subjecting them to regulation, an alternative that many of us have advocated is reform of Section 230 to make it clear that you’re a publisher if you’re pushing an editorial line. You can have rules of the road and can forbid threatening, harassing, or inciteful posts, but your rules have to be objective, viewpoint-neutral, and universally applied for you to retain Section 230 protection. Otherwise, you’re a publisher and should be treated as such.

This isn’t an idea without some controversy. As believers in the free market, many argue, conservatives and libertarians should let the market sort itself out and take their business elsewhere. As private businesses, Facebook, YouTube and Twitter shouldn’t be under any obligation to provide a voice for those whose views they find abhorrent. And, as Ken White of Popehat argues, it’s a stretch to suggest that the social media providers are the people creating the content. Even many of the advocates of Section 230 reform suggest the move goes against the grain of their libertarianism, arguing that this is a situation just to rife with abuse.

I think these concerns are misguided. Far from being a violation of libertarian principle, Section 230 reform would be a move to impose free market discipline on the social media giants. The question of whether the social media giants are original content creators is utterly beside the point. Of course they aren’t! But, Section 230 itself doesn’t address whether the service provider is the creator of the original content. It’s about whether they are to be treated as publishers.

And it’s clear that they are acting as publishers If you’re maintaining an editorial line, you’re not acting simply as a passive pass-through or a facilitator of expression. You’re doing pretty much the opposite. You’re acting to define what is acceptable and what is unacceptable expression on your platform. If you’re demonetizing Stephen Crowder for making a side reference to homosexuality while maintaining a guy like Carlos Maza after he specifically encourages assaulting conservatives, you can’t honestly say you’re just an open platform for people to exchange ideas. If you’re banning Carl Benjamin while giving Antifa a pass, the last thing you’re doing is acting as a neutral pass-through. You’re acting as a publisher deciding what they will and will not publish.

And that is and should be their right. On that, I completely agree with Section 230 reform sceptics. If you believe in free speech, then you have to believe that people cannot justly be compelled to speech any more than they can be censored. And demanding that social media provide a platform to conservatives is just as much a compulsion of speech as insisting Rush Limbaugh devote a show to singing the praises of Elizabeth Warren or that MSNBC devote a day to critiques of climate change.

What the social media giants don’t have a right to is special favor from the government. If they’re acting as a publisher, then they should be subject to the same laws and same standards as any other publisher. To treat them more favorably is to grant a subsidy to established and entrenched interests over brick-and-mortar competitors, as well as new entrants in the social media space.

For just about any other industry the injustice of such a policy would be glaringly obvious. Imagine if the government said the hotel industry or the movie theater industry would be exempt from labor laws or health and safety laws. Or worse still if the government said that certain hotels and certain movie theaters would be exempt from those laws. Libertarians would rightly be up in arms about such a policy. They’d rightly note such behavior as just the sort of crony capitalism that libertarianism rejects. The same applies to the social media giants acting as publishers. You might say that the laws holding publishers responsible for any libel or IP infringement or harassment they publish are bad laws. A libertarian case can be made for or against them. But, holding some publishers liable and exempting others is the least libertarian response. It is, simply put, the government openly picking winners and losers.

Moreover, the social media giants’ hidden imposition of an editorial line has poisoned so much of social media culture. To understand this, imagine that, rather than the fashionable progressive causes of the day, the social media giants took an editorial line that was “pro-seltzer”. They’d happily let commentary advocating the benefits of drinking seltzer and actively deplatform anyone arguing to the contrary. The public relying on social media for information, believing they were getting truly decentralized discussion about seltzer would only see discussions about how great seltzer is and how terrible those awful people who want to suggest people might want to drink milk are. Without understanding that the social media are only telling you the pro-seltzer position, a good many readers would become convinced, not only of the pro-seltzer position, but also of the social media morality in advocating for seltzer. The non-seltzer people, unsurprisingly, only militate when they realize the public is being lied to about them and their positions. And the less radicalized, lacking a means to evaluate the claims of the genuine anti-seltzer extremists, since the entire anti-seltzer argument has been excised from the public discussion where ideas can be tested, tend to be pushed to the more radical position.

I respect the social media giants. They took an ambiguity in the law and leveraged it to build a whole new means of communication that offers tremendous opportunity for public discourse. But, with success comes hubris. For the social media giants, that hubris has led them to abandon any claim to that ambiguity. They’re now acting as publishers in the most obvious and clear-cut manner one can find. And, in addition to being an injustice in its own right, that preferential treatment is leading them to behave in a way that is rendering our public discourse increasingly toxic. To set things right, we don’t need to regulate the social media giants and we don’t need to break them up. We simply need to resolve that ambiguity to make clear that they’re either publishers, with all the legal liabilities that any other publisher faces, or they’re public fora where they don’t get to dictate what viewpoints deserve an audience.

July 29, 2019
The Bronzed Man Collapse: Chapter 1 A Prelude

3539 CE: New Sydney University Department of Antiquities

New Sydney University, Department of Antiquities

…Don’t be fooled, claims by [corrupted] and other members of the one percent. Their privilege is on full display when they say that they don’t see themselves as better than those poorer than themselves. The rich and super wealthy can cruise through life without a thought about their place in society. … ignorant of the fact that the most disadvantaged must constantly remember that they are less than the elites who don’t even recognize their existence…

When Romneyesqe platitudes … ignoring the lived experiences …

The curator examined the artifact again and again. Even after several years of study, Late Period English was difficult for her to understand. However many times she tried to read this sermon, this passage twisted her in knots.

Romneyesqe

That word was giving her particular troubles. Despite many attempts she could not find a single source to compare the meaning of the word. Even searching for the root Romney pulled in no results. Jotting it down on her notepad she moved on with the text.

… Whiteness demands that others overlook the vast inequality it generates and absolve each individual of the crimes they perpetuate. They insist that by making empty assertions of class-blindness, that they are free from any spot of culpability in the system they benefit from… destroying and oppressing people of color and the most disadvantaged.

This was a common articulation in the holy texts, and this was not the oldest form. The piece was dated to the Early to Mid 21^st Century, with similar passages being well known. Yet it was the first derivation that she had seen to absolutely equate whiteness with class. No hint of metaphor, but a one-to-one relationship. It was this passage that attracted her to this artifact. She felt it held a key to unlocking more information regarding the collapse of the ancient world.

A 5 minute warning popped up on the terminal. She quickly scanned the document again for any additional words to cross check, and then disconnected. As she got up to leave, a thought flashed through her mind. Perhaps he would know. She disliked the Maslow, but the more she thought about it the stronger she felt that she had to ask him for help…

She entered the Department of Anglo studies and walked down the long hall. The Stone Floor clacked as she stepped across it revealing her presence to the entire building, but nobody stirred to greet her. On the wall was a large board with a directory pinned to it. She scanned down the list. “Dr. Henrie Maslow: 115“. She proceeded down the hall. As she approached room 115 she could hear a muffled discourse before the door swung open and a young red-faced man walked out of room 115. Peering in, there was an older gentleman, white mustache half concealing a wicked smile. Their eyes locked, and he sat up straight.

Dr. Henrie Maslow

“Well, what brings our beloved Curator to my humble office?”

“Is this a bad Time?”, she hoped.

“Hardly, that was merely an … academic discussion between a student and his professor”. He motioned her in with his hand. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s about a passage I’ve been studying, part of the Mother Jones collection, It has been particularly difficult to understand, it’s ancient from the Early Collapse”

“Hmm, yes the religious texts often are, especially from that period” He noted. She rolled her eyes and continued. “Yes i was hoping you could help me out with a few words.”. Maslow looked her over, “You know I had heard you were back at your studies of the Collapse, isn’t that what lost you your last job?”. She began to remember why she didn’t want to come see him. “Are you going to help or not?”

“Of course, of course, but kindly leave me out of your acknowledgments in your next paper, I have a reputation”. He may have been teasing but it still stung. She pulled out her notepad, sat down and they began to work.

July 23, 2019