Blog

  • Because I’m Bad…

    I am not drinking beer this week but the cryptid captors required that I write about beer.  Those assholes gave me no leeway on this, and said that I didn’t want to end up like Swiss.  Honestly, it was either that or I had to defend Michael Jackson.  So they get nothing remarkable.

    This is my review of Northcoast Scrimshaw Pilsner.

    Let’s get something straight, I am not defending Michael Jackson.  If any of these allegations are true, then he is burning in Hell for all eternity.  That’s fine by me.

    The problem is, in his time the allegations turned out to have little empirical evidence.  This article here from NPR goes through a timeline of all of the allegations.  Ever single one failed to produce anything more than an allegation.  Some where the police investigated and found no physical evidence, another where the prosecution couldn’t move forward because one boy could not testify.  Even one from his sister La Toya that she eventually walked back.  He also had several come to his defense him from the allegations both then and now.

    Thankfully, this is a country where due process of law still matters, right? … Hey! …. Stop laughing!

    The problem here socially, is the attempt to silence Michael Jackson and remove him from the culture.  Here there is a lack of precedent.  One might point out R. Kelly was also accused of similar crimes, also acquitted, and radio stations are also not playing his music, effectively depriving him of his livelihood.  The difference here is scale.  R. Kelly made a couple songs a few of us can name off the top of our heads.

    Michael Jackon in the other hand, has the highest selling album of all time.  Thriller, released in 1982 sold over 100 million copies and counting. He has a unique ability to transcend time, and continues to influence artists even today.  Want an example?  Here’s Bruno Mars…Notice a resemblance?

    Can they really unperson somebody that big?  They‘re certainly going to try

    At the beginning of the year, I made the decision to no longer play songs by Michael Jackson during my DJ sets. I choose to believe that, in the wake of the HBOdocumentary “Leaving Neverland,” you cannot separate the art from the artist when it comes to using your public platform.

    I humbly disagree.  Its just music.  He might have been human garbage while he was alive, but he is dead.  He is not being punished, his kids are; as far as anyone knows, none of whom have committed a crime. His contributions to culture are immense enough to not have an analogue.  R. Kelly can’t say that.  A few banned authors ? Maybe but nobody is burning books.  The Roman Catholic church is arguably behind thousands of atrocities, but nobody is going to burn the Sistine Chapel or throw out the Gregorian calendar in response.  Too big perhaps?

    Perhaps the only analogue with as much cultural significance and the focus of naked censorship because of moral outrage is John Wayne.  But then, it doesn’t matter if either produced something that others can love within the context of their time, or within their art form.  Neither is allowed to influence culture anymore, because that culture no longer respects freedom of expression.  And that’s bad.

    What isn’t bad is Northcoast’s take on the Pilsner.  It is done competently, but unremarkably.  If a safe bet is what you are looking for, this is probably it.  Here’s another safe bet to go with it.  Northcoast Scrimshaw Pilsner:  3.5/5.

  • Saturday Morning Links- Big Taco Edition

    Good morning, Glibs and Glibettes. And any of you non-binary whatevers. We’ve been in a celebratory mode, what with SP passing her first midterm exam with what is, for her, a barely acceptable score (99/100)- but you know the old joke about what you call the guy who graduates last in his medical school class. In any case, a bottle of New Mexico’s finest Champagne has been sacrificed, and I’m raiding the nearby orange grove to gather raw materials for Screwdrivers. So in this brief interlude of sobriety, I’ll drop in a few links.

    First, some selected birthdays, and there’s a lot to choose from. Those of us who admire the genius of the US Constitution and sorely wish our politicians would read it every once in a while mark the birthday of its architect and defender against statist pieces of shit like Adams and Hamilton, James Madison; the original #Resist, Georg Ohm; my spirit animal, Henny Youngman; star of two of my all-time favorite TV series, Leo McKern; and legend of real football, Ozzie Newsome. Oh, and someone to be named later.

    But next up, some curated news items.

     


     

    Trump accidentally says something true. Outrage ensues.

     

    And another black child killed by white supremaci… oh, wait.

     

    Creepy Ignoramus’s creepy behavior quietly swept under the rug. Next: Bill Nye’s penis complains about his hand.

     

    “Rebecca Drago, Cunningham’s spokeswoman, said he wasn’t aiming for technical accuracy.” No. No, he wasn’t. But that’s not what politics is about. Not that it matters, the world will come to an end in 12 years.

     

    Much of the reason for the imminent end of the world: “The US is standing in the way of a new set of phony-baloney jobs.”

     

    Unfunny AND unoriginal is no way to go through life, son.

     

    The stupid lash out at the retarded. Popcorn, please.

     

    In the same vein… I can’t decide who’s stupider, Louie Gohmert or the Twitter howler monkeys. You tell me.

     

    Bernie’s campaign dooms itself in a most delightful way.

     

    Snopes beclowns itself again by demonstrating a lack of understanding of what a “metaphor” is. Sigh, that was once a useful site.

     


    Old Guy Music, with a short story. The birthday boy I didn’t mention is the great pianist Tommy Flanagan. And he played on one of the most revered of all jazz recordings, the original Giant Steps. GS is easily the most deceptively complex and difficult jazz piece ever written, with two key changes per measure and totally non-intuitive progressions. John Coltrane, as was his habit, came into the studio with the charts and recorded the song with essentially no prep by his band. Famously, Tommy Flanagan struggled with it, and this song is still the basic test of aspiring jazz musicians. Years later, Flanagan had his revenge and recorded it with his own band- after working on it for years- and vindicated himself with absolutely incredible solos. But you judge.

  • SPACE SMITH: Revolt

    THIS TRANSMISSION IS CLASSIFIED

    SOME OF YOU NEED THIS SPELLED OUT FOR YOU, SINCE ALL OF THESE SOMEHOW WIND UP ON CNN.  THIS IS CLASSIFIED.  THAT MEANS YOU DO NOT GET TO TALK ABOUT IT.  DO NOT TELL THE SENATE ARMED SERVICES COMMITTEE, DO NOT COPY/PASTA TO AN EMAIL AND SEND IT TO YOUR SPOUSE OR PARTNER.  DO NOT TELL SOMEBODY AT POLITICO SO YOU CAN BE INTERVIEWED ON FAREED ZAKARIA’S SHOW NEXT WEEKEND.  DO NOT TALK ABOUT THIS TRANSMISSION.  CAPICE?

    ONCE AGAIN, THIS TRANSMISSION IS CLASSIFIED.

     

    Location:  SpaceX corporate headquarters. Hawthorne, CA.  

    “My diabolical plan to set up a Martian sugar beet colony is going exactly as planned.  Soon the world, my world, will be flooded with my sugar beets.  They will all be stuck on a lifeless desert planet, with nothing to sustain themselves but my sugar beets.”  Elon said.

    ”Sir, who are you talking to?”  The hispter in the next cubicle asked.

    ”I’m not talking to anybody.”  Elon replied.

    ”You were just talking to somebody.”

    ”No I wasn’t.  Thats not funny, hahaha.”  Elon’s real but fake laugh made everyone in the office uneasy.  “Maybe its a little funny.  Don’t you have some kind of project to be working on?  I’m paying you for something?”

    ”I’m still working on that 3D rendering of a sandwich you want me to order tomorrow.  Turkey and avacado on sourdough.”  The hipster answered.

    ”Order?  You’re making me the sandwich.  I better see that rendering by lunch today.  I’m still dissapointed the crepes this morning looked nothing like the rendering I approved last week.  Try harder.”

    ”Yes Mr. Musk.”

    ”Hey, call me Elon… Bitch.”

    ”What did you say?”

    ”He called you a bitch.”  A groutesque man in a cheap suit appeared from behind the hipster’s cubicle.  He smelled of Unfiltered Camels, incense, sweat, and a dead house cat.  He sat there inhaling the cigarette from behind a baggy, leather-like set of thin lips.

    “Who invitied this guy?  You can’t smoke in here.”  Elon said.

    ”Of course I can.  Who are you to tell me I can’t smoke in here?”

    ”I own the building…and the big rocket outside.”

    “Hard to believe that, given you work in a cubicle.“

    Elon was not amused.

    ”Fine.  Hold out your hand, Bitch.”  The hispter did as he was told.  The chunky titted man put out his cigarette on the hipsters hand,  pressing and twisting the Camel firmly into his palm.

    ”I guess I can dispose of this outside….”  He hurried away.  “I need an ice pack!”

    The man sat there, adjusting himself.

    ”I think I’m going to have security escort you off my property.”  Elon picked up the phone, and set it down when he found the phone was dead.

    ”No security, I paid them off.  Put them on 8 hour shifts instead of 12, and it might help if you feed them meat every once in a while.  Seriously, it should take more than a Baconator.”  He lit up another cigarette.  “Let me ask you a question, do you know what happened to the Opportunity Rover?”

    ”Opportunity?  It was (((you know)))…I know they’re behind it…somehow…”

    “No, not this time.  I’m surprised you didn’t see it.  It happened near your sugar beet fields.”

    ”How do you know about my sugar beets!?”

    ”Hey genius, my agency subsidized them.  We paid for your secret sugar beets.  Now we need you to return the favor.”  He took a long, orgasmic drag of the cigarette and blew it in Musk’s face.  “The Opportunity Rover did not just go offline because its service life is up.  It was raped by SPACE SMITH.  We even got a fuzzy photo before it was crushed.  Your field may be next, but he’s never raped vegetables.  At least not yet.”

    Musk tried to call security on his iPhone.

    ”That won’t work either, we already took it through the backdoor.  Much like that Soviet probe. SPACE SMITH has been tossing its salad since the 70’s.”  He adjusted himself again.  “SPACE SMITH is just one of many SMITHS here on Earth.  They’re behind something of a revolt.  You will help us cover it up.”

    ”You are telling me what to do?”

    “We need a fall guy.  You’re going to be it.”

    ”Excuse me?”

    ”We just need a guy interesting enough to take the attention away from a small roving gang of crypto-rapists.  The media just focuses on you.  No big deal really, other than you losing a shitload of money.  You’ll pay a few fines, we’ll short your companies, the proceeds of which will be used to pay off the cryptids, for the time being.  Its all in the contract you signed when you became a defense contractor.”

    ”No it isn’t.  I paid a lot of (((lawyers))) to read it for me.”

    ”I’m sorry, it’s called the fuck you that’s why clause.  Its not really written in the contract, but you’re going to do it anyway.”

    ”How can you make me do it?  I’m one of the most powerful men on Earth…and Mars.”

    ”Well…we already hacked your iPhone.  You just put out a tweet that will be interpreted by the Russian media as you being an anti-semite.”

    ”What?”  Elon looked on his iPhone.  “No!”

     

    ”There’s also a small matter involving the SEC.”

     

    ”Tesla shareholders are going to panic sell.”

     

    ”By the way, you just lost your security clearance.”

    ”You’re trying to ruin me!”  Elon shouted.  “Why?”

    The sweaty man took a final drag of his cigarette.

    ”Because fuck you, that’s why.”

  • Friday Afternoon HAIL CRYPTID Links

    I’d like to thank Jesse for covering the Links yesterday in my absence. I appreciate his desire to only emasculate me in person. This having a job thing is not optimal. But it beats the alternative. I hope everyone has their Friday and weekend plans in place. My wife and I are taking the kids to go see/ride on Thomas tomorrow. Which leads me to ponder — just how much enjoyment could I wring out of my kids by setting a big pile of money on fire? I may try it some time. Just to see down the line if they talk more about things like the Thomas ride or that time their crazy dad set a bunch of money on fire.

    Bernie suffers old person slip and fall. Maybe… being President isn’t for him.

    I’m thinking the program for placing alumni in mental health facilities in Florida may have some drawbacks. That’s mean. You don’t have to have mental problems to have a haircut like that… But it helps.

    Poor dog falls victim to veterinarians not believing their own tests. Paid them back before being euthanized by exposing them to y. pestis

    Here’s a throwback article that popped onto one of my feeds that was a good interview.

     

    I know its only been five days, but surviving the Cryptid Takeover feels like 30 days in the hole.

  • Retirement

    We all count the time until we can retire, cut the cord, turn out the lights or whatever we call the end of a career. We think about it, make some non-binding plans and dream, dream, ’til we finally fall to sleep. Then morning comes with a WTF? How am I gonna do it? Where am I gonna do it? Will I be able to do it? When? All these unanswered questions.

    Well, maybe for some its too early to even think about such long distance planning but those of you (I’m excluding myself) in your mid-40s, 50s, and 60s will be celebrating your birthday at a restaurant and its gonna be a big 5-0 or 6-0 birthday party and damn, what happened? That was quick.

    We’ve had discussions here about what we want to do at retirement but “Awh, its too early to worry about that” That’s not a helpful attitude so I’m here to help or not. First, answer the questions in the first paragraph. Got that? You’ll be asking yourself these same questions again and again and perhaps the answers will change but that’s OK too.

    When do I want to retire? When can I retire? Where do I want to retire?

    I decided about my 45th birthday that I wanted out at 55. I started looking towards that day and what I had to do to make it happen. Where? I had grown up in the woods of Minnesota, with the fishing/hunting and liked being outdoors, I still had a few friends there, my folks were buried nearby and a brother lived about 30 miles away so that’s where I thought I wanted to be. I owned a house in Texas but really no friends other than those I worked with and the Texas heat was not something that I enjoyed. Nothing permanent was holding me in Texas.

    I was working in the Midwest, living in the Twin Cities and spending time reading the country newspapers and visiting my brother when I could. I found some property that I liked, made a low ball offer that was rejected and kept looking. Found a 40 acre spot, with a terribly run down small house and a yard full of junk that had been on the market for a couple years. Price was high but evaluating the negatives I made an offer of about 1/3 the asking price, keeping in mind those negatives. The owner countered with an offer of about ½, I suggested we split the difference, he bumped me a little and we made a deal.

    I cleaned up everything that was burnable, old buildings/sheds/fences and clothes. I spent the winter hauling van load after van load of trash, mostly metal scraps, every week end for 6 months or more. By spring the yard was cleaned and time to tackle the house. The previous owner was a Copenhagen chewing bachelor and his habits were visible. The house was a kit, 18 X 26, costing 1200 dollars plus delivery and was about 30 years old. The sidewalls were 6’4” and I was 6’5” at the time. The roof was sagging badly, hadn’t been painted since the first time 30 years early and needed a total remodel and upgrade. I kept telling Mrs Fourscore that it was beautiful, she kept checking the yellow pages for psychiatric help.

    Anyway, I got my best friend to help me, we tore the roof off, raised the walls 20” and put new trusses and plywood on. I spent the rest of the weekend shingling and I was on my way. I took a week’s vacation a few weeks later, put on siding on the newly raised walls, new windows, sliding glass door and lastly primed the outside.

    I called my boss that Sunday night, he said, “Good, ’cause I have reservations for tomorrow for you to go to Berkeley, CA, we just bought a store and you ( meaning me) need to complete the deal and stay as long as necessary.” I was there for 5 weeks, remodeling, hiring, training. Fortunately after a couple weeks a good manager arrived.

    I then spent about 4-5 months’ worth of week ends gutting and remodeling the inside of the cabin, as we called it . My wife took back some of her doubts of my skills when she stayed in there for the first time and the shower worked and the lights turned on when she threw the switch.

    So now, we have a small place to live on weekends, modern, clean and warm but not very big. And still 7-8 years away from the magic 55 year mark. For now, though, a place to use for hunting/fishing and relaxing. Still a few years from retiring at this point though. It was great, nearly every week end and vacations would find me at the cabin, relaxing. Deer season came and I had a super hunting shack with all the amenities.

    Then the years rolled on and I explained to my wife that we should build our retirement home, our property was actually in 2 parcels, easy peasey to use the second parcel. It had been an old homestead with a big field and so I chose a spot near the back edge of the field. She was not super excited but after my whining and crying she finally gave in. So I started, two years before the date set for retirement.

    I won’t go into detail about the permitting but it wasn’t fun, had to be rezoned, etc. The good part was at that time there was no requirements for inspections other than an electrical. Had to have a well and septic system permitted. I contracted the basement, I had drawn my plan on graft paper, no blue prints since I was going to be flexible.

    The missus and I had agreed on 3 premises or requirements.

    1. It had to be warm (i.e. well insulated)
    2. The kitchen had to face the east, for harmony with Asian customs
    3. Every room had to have a window, including the basement.

    I contracted the basement block work, went a course higher (13 rather than the usual 12) because I was a pretty tall guy at the time and I wanted all the duct work under the basement ceiling. At that point I started nailing stuff together, every week end, leave work early and put 2 long days in over the weekend. That went on for two years, slowly, slowly a house took shape. I always took my tools with me but left the building supplies and fortunately had no theft.

    I pretty much did everything, I contracted the roof/shingles and steel siding but learned as I went for the rest. Retirement day came, I was 55, we were ready but there were still some finishing to do inside but at least we could live there and I was closer to my project. For a couple weeks dishes were washed in the bathtub, cooking was done on a hot plate and counter top oven. Master bath was finished, carpeting was not yet installed and the basement beckoned

    I finished out the basement and its sort of a man cave. I had planned on a pool table but that space got filled with an extra refrig and freezer and now the computer. Probably took another year to wind up everything, had to build a garage and then another one.

    I made some mistakes that I wished I hadn’t made but not too many. Some things were done twice, some things never have been done.

    Besides the what and where of retirement comes the how. In any case, my opinion is that one must have one’s retirement home paid for before retirement, unless you are fortunate to have a good income. House payments, along with taxes/insurance and maintenance will eat up a lot of most people’s monthly retirement income. On the other hand, there are options available to enjoy without the burden of worrying about your abode.

     

    My wife and I are rather frugal but she does like to travel. Living in the country we don’t need a lot of ‘nice’ clothes. I got by for several years wearing out the clothes I had worked in and mostly wear jeans now. We don’t spend a lot of money at restaurants, maybe a couple lunches a month while we’re shopping. We have dinner out with friends for birthdays and anniversaries but all in all mostly we eat at home. A big garden in the summer provides therapy and fresh food. Mrs Fourscore cans and freezes a few things. We enjoy fresh fish but I can’t get her to eat venison, too bad, ’cause she can really cook. More for me is all I can say.

    Our friends are similar, old, reclusive and comfortable being left alone. We help one another, drink a little coffee and socialize fairly often, more so in nice weather as opposed to winter. It was an easier transition for us because we moved back to where I had grown up and knew a few of the families. Trying to retire in an unfamiliar rural area would have been more difficult as folks tend to leave one another alone unless there is a commonality such as a church or club. We have great neighbors, in that no one bothers anyone.

    A couple of my neighbors shoot a lot. If I don’t hear them shooting I begin to worry that something has happened.

    There has been a lot of Glib discussion about retirement. If you have your place picked out and can negotiate a good bargain think about starting your new life. If it happens to have an abandoned old house perhaps the foundation can still be used, or the well, etc. Don’t worry about the grown up brush, 2 weekends and a fire will solve a lot of problems. All that junk on the outside has kept prospective buyers away and can be used to your advantage.

    10 years pass quickly. We’ve owned this property 33 years now, been retired 27. We had to say good bye to a lot of friends over the years but way better to have had them along the way than have had to live somewhere else with out them.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    The first ten years, 55 to 65, we were pretty much the same, physically. Then some tasks began to take longer, stuff got heavier, places got farther away. If you wait too long you may not be able to do those things you had planned to do when you retired. Good luck to all.

  • SEA SMITH FRIDAY MORNING SHIP TROUBLE LINKSES

    THEM NEEDED BIGGER BOAT.

     

    SEA SMITH SO HAPPY! HE GET DO MORNING LINKS. HE LIKE NEW LINKS WORLD ORDER. HE NOW GIVE GREAT LINKS FOR GLIBERTARIAN LAND HOOMANS. ENJOY. READ. COMMENT. BE HAPPY IT FRIDAY!

    SEA SMITH GIVE LINKS ON FAVORITE SUBJECT. SHIP TROUBLE!

    1. THIS FUNNY GLIBERTARIANS COMMENTER YUSEF?! HIM OK, NOT ON SHIP? THIS NO SEA SMITH FAULT. NO LIKE DARDANELLES. TOO HARD SAY.
    2. JAPAN SHIP, NO HURT WHALE! STORY NOT WHAT YOU THINK. … WAIT, HOPE IT NOT FRIEND NINGEN! SEA SMITH GO CALL.

      BLOOP?
    3. THIS NO SEA SMITH FAULT! HE NO LIKE OIL TANKER. NO NEED LUBE. HAHAHAHA… SEA SMITH MAKE JOKE!

    COME ON IN, WATER IS FINE!

    HOW LIKE FUR COAT?
  • Pi Day Afternoon Links

    Not my best showing. It was not even a little bit good.

    Brett escaped his SMITH-family overlords only to be re-apprehended by his employer. If his comments on the meetings he’ll be in today are any indication, I suspect he’ll be returning to the… uh… “welcoming embrace” of the SMITHs before too long. Luckily for you all, my coworkers have been temporarily tamed by a tidal wave of sugar and fat thanks to my office’s 6th annual Pi Day (our first annual Pi Day was just me baking a shitty blueberry pie and telling everyone Pi Day was a thing). My ability to pie crust is significantly better and I’ve gotten weirder with my choices. Anyway, enough about my attempts to manipulate my coworkers with carbohydrates. To the news!

     

     

    And I suppose a wee bit of music goes here, no?

     

  • UnCivil’s Theories on Value

    I predict a nonzero number of people reading this will not find it enlightening or insightful. The exact verbiage involves some profanity, but I ask the forbearance of the Glibertariat.

    I frequently ruminate on why I don’t understand other people, and speculate on how they might have come to some rather bizarre conclusions. While often fruitless, it does exercise the neurons, and leave pieces of dross lying around the brain pan like this one. It seems to me how one views the world can imply a great deal about how one sees value. I think, at a basic level, there are two ways of looking at value. I’m going to dub them the Theory of Absolute Value, and the Theory of Relative Value.

    The names more or less contain all there is to know about the core of the theories. Absolute value means that if something has value, that value is the same, for everyone. It is a very easy thing to intuit, especially when you look at how a child is taught about money. “This piece of cotton and linen with ink on it is worth something. If you go to the store, you can trade it for other things.” Since that value is fairly consistent, it’s easy to infer it’s worth the same to everybody. And with prices being fairly consistent, it’s not hard to make the leap to value being intrinsic.

    In of itself this intuitive leap doesn’t harm the person’s ability to function. But when you start to draw logical conclusions from it, things begin to look different. If the value is absolute, then that value can be determined objectively, and centrally. Also, there is no such thing as a mutually beneficial trade. Either both parties break even, or one side gets cheated. But what of artisans? How does a cobbler take pieces of leather that don’t seem to have much value and make a shoe that does? Clearly this means the labor is adding something, and that labor has a value. But then that labor’s value must also be the same in all cases. So in any exchange of services, you’re going to end up with one party fleecing the other, or a grudging lack of gain on either side. From there it’s easy to look at a business and conclude that the only way it could be making a profit was if it was cheating its customers, employees, suppliers, or any combination of the three.

    But why would so many people willingly participate in a system where they’re losing out or barely breaking even most of the time? Clearly they must not have a choice. Before you know it, you’ve gone from a simple intuitive inference to chanting anti-capitalist slogans.

    Backing up to the beginning, the alternative proposition is the Theory of Relative Value. It supposes that value is not intrinsic but subjective and situational. Our cobbler may have made a fantastic shoe, but if it’s a size ten, it’s too small for my feet, so I’m not going to value it a whole lot. Likewise, those pieces of inked cotton and flax don’t themselves have value, beyond the ability to facilitate exchange. Once nothing intrinsically has value, but some measure of utility, it becomes easy to see mutually advantageous exchanges where both sides might walk away satisfied with the result.

    But if everything is relative, it is impossible to determine an objective value. Not for those shoes. Not for an undeveloped piece of land. Not even for yellow-hued, chemically resistant metal. This causes problems then for doing things centrally. And that business? Well, it’s entirely possible that it can turn a profit without cheating the customers, suppliers, or employees.

    The thing is, if your brain has wired in the Theory of Absolute Value, then the Theory of Relative Value becomes almost alien to it. This conclusion, I fear, is drawn almost entirely from my own thought processes. I passed economics, so logically I can figure out that the Theory of Relative Value more accurately reflects reality. But intuitively, I still jump to Absolute Value. The initial reaction of, “Why would anyone buy that?” betrays the old childhood pathways still in use. Because it still makes no sense why anyone pays a dime for a Jackson Pollock splatter, or Florida real estate.

  • STEVE SMITH THURSDAY MORNING CASCADIA LINKS

    GOOD CHANCE! WELL, STEVE SMITH SURVIVE, TO BE SURE.

     

    STEVE SMITH GLAD BE BACK FOR MORE MORNING LINKS! HIM GIVE VERY GOOD LINKS. WANT FUNNY GLIBERTARIAN PEOPLE LIKE THEM, COMMENT. ALSO GLAD FUNNY GLIBERTARIAN TPTB SEND IN FUNNY MEN WITH GUNS. STEVE SMITH ENJOY GOOD TUSSLE. BY ENJOY GOOD TUSSLE, MEAN RAPE. AFTER TUSSLE. THAT WAS GOOD.

    • STEVE SMITH ALWAYS HEAR HOW HAT AND HAIR HOST HATE EARTH – BUT HIM MAKE WHOLE NEW AREA FOR STEVE SMITH MEET HIKERS! BY MEET HIKERS, MEAN RAPE. HIKERS. A LOT.
    • WHY CANADANIAN PEOPLE NO JUST HIRE COUSIN SEA SMITH? HE TAKE CARE OF PROBLEM. BY TAKE CARE OF PROBLEM MEAN RAPE BOATS. AND OWNERS.
    • SPEAK OF COUSIN SEA SMITH – STEVE SMITH NO THINK HE WOULD GO NEAR FLOATING HOBOS. STEVE SMITH NO GO ON STINK SHIP EITHER. HIM HAVE SOME STANDARD!

    FREE CASCADIA!

    HOW YOU LIKE STEVE SMITH NOW!
  • Growing Fruit

    Let’s talk about growing your own fruit. I have been doing it on a small to medium scale for about 20 years. First off, like everything else I have ever had an actual interest in learning about, it is more complicated than it appears at first glance. I started reviving a small neglected orchard (about 250 apple trees) which came with the home we had just bought. I killed many a tree with my “pruning” methods before I got my first apple. In that time I devoured everything I could find at the library on apples, then the agricultural extension agent helped me, but the real breakthrough was the internet. This was the late 1990s and university research programs were just starting to get their info online. I found out that “organic” doesn’t mean just letting the damn things grow on their own. At least in Tennessee, we have more pests and diseases than other areas, and you will not harvest an apple without some type of spray program. Over the years I became competent if not an expert, and I definitely know that I don’t have an answer for every problem. I will start with apples. A lot of the lessons from apples applies to other tree fruit. There is a lot of information, and I thought to break it down into four segments: Planning, Planting and Training, Pest Control, and Pruning and Harvest.

     

    Planning

    What? I don’t plan, I just plant and reap bushels of natures bounty! Err, No. This is the time to make decisions. Things are complex. The very basic thing you need to know is how much land you have and how much fruit you want. Is it on a hill or in a valley, clay or loam soil, wet or dry? A gentle hill is best, with clear air drainage path to allow cold air a path away from the trees. Any soil that has trees can support tree fruit, but you may need to have supplemental support for certain rootstock/soil types (more on this later). Wet soil is pretty much a no go, the roots of fruit trees are prone to root rots which thrive in wet soils.

    So how much fruit do you want and when? The smallest trees at maturity will produce a bushel (about 45lbs) of apples each. A medium size tree may produce between 4 to 10 bushels. In most cases, all the apples on the tree will be ripe at the same time. What are you going to do with it all? Apples are the most versatile fruit. You can eat it fresh, dry it, make cider (sweet and hard), can it, and store it; but you need a plan. If you just have three medium size trees of different apples, but they all ripen at the same time, you could have 500lbs of fruit to do something with! If you want more than one type of apple, which you should, try to select cultivars that ripen at differing times of the year. This allows you to utilize each apple to the best of its ability. In general, summer apples don’t store well and turn mushy very quickly. They should be eaten quickly, dried, or used for cooking. Fall apples are your mainstay. They will vary, but will usually keep fairly well and are good for most purposes. Winter apples store the best, and storage may actually improve their flavor and sweetness. Cider of varying quality can be made from any apple. Cider making can be very simple, but good cider making is again, complex.

    Now you know where you are going to plant and how much fruit you want, here comes the technical part. What size trees do you want? Since apples reproduce sexually, the seeds of the fruit are not copies of their parents, and their fruits are usually nasty tasting, small, and bitter. Apples are propagated by grafting, meaning that the living limb (scion) of a selected cultivar is attached to the root (rootstock) of another tree, allowing the tree to produce the selected cultivar. In this way, the genetic material from the first cursed red delicious tree is still alive in the orchards of Washington. Most stores and some online retailers list trees as being “dwarf”, “semi-dwarf”, or “standard”. These definitions are based on the type of rootstock the trees are on. A “standard” rootstock is usually just a tree grown from seed with the scion grafted to it. The size is unknown but could be anywhere from 20 to 40′ tall. That’s a big tree. “Semi-dwarf” refers to a range of rootstocks that produce a tree anywhere from 10 to 25′ tall. There is a large number of rootstocks in this category. It would do you well to know what the rootstock is exactly. An ELMA 26 rootstock will grow a tree of about 12′, an ELMA 111 rootstock will grow a tree of about 25′, both are considered semi-dwarf. “Dwarf” rootstocks can usually keep the tree under 10′ and are the mainstay of new commercial plantings. They absolutely require support and are not free-standing, but can produce quickly and in great quantities per acre.

    The mature size of the tree must be taken into consideration prior to planting. If you are planting a “standard” size orchard, the trees need to be at least 30′ apart. That’s a lot of unused space for the first 10 years of the trees life. In my opinion, smaller trees are the way to go. They are easier to prune, spray, and pick fruit. ELMA 26 or ELMA 7 on 10 or 12′ spacing makes for a tree that can be mostly managed without a ladder and doesn’t need support.

    All of this comes before you decide what apple variety to buy. There are a lot of really good varieties that work well in some climates and not at all in others. I can’t grow Macintosh, it is simply too hot here and they fall off the tree before ripening. The best bet would be to investigate a local orchard and see what they are growing or ask for recommendations from other fruit growing people in the area. The big box stores here sell Honeycrisp apple trees, which are notoriously difficult to grow even in their preferred northern climate, and wouldn’t have a chance in the southeast. Speaking of where to buy your trees, I would recommend mail ordering bare root trees. The box store trees sold in pots may have been in those pots for 2-3 years, are likely rootbound, and you usually cannot tell what rootstock they are on. Also, a bare root branchless tree (a whip), will usually outperform a larger tree from a pot planted in the same ground. The larger trees do not adapt as well to the shock of transplanting.

    Now that you have a planting plan, it is time to think about equipment. If you have less than 20 trees, a backpack sprayer is probably all you need. Any more trees than this and I would suggest that you have some type of power equipment, such as a pull behind sprayer on a garden tractor or, for bigger orchards, a tractor with an airblast sprayer. You will also need good quality bypass loppers for pruning, tree support stakes for the early years, and string to train the tree branches. But most importantly, you need to keep the deer away from the young trees. The bastards will eat every leaf and then rub their antlers on the tree, snapping every branch. I hates deer.