Last week, a semi tractor belonging to the moving company hauled a big cargo container into our driveway. Five guys came in and filled our house and the workshop and office buildings up with boxes and various appurtenances.
On the one hand, it’s great to have this done, and it feels even more real now that all our stuff is here.
On the other hand, it’s going to take months to get everything unpacked and organized.
But it’s done; we can take our time setting stuff up, but the hard part of the move is complete. The only way I’m moving from this house is in a body bag. We’re home, here in the Great Land, to stay.
Any of you True Believers who have been reading these virtual pages for any time, and who have been paying attention to my cultural offerings, already know that I have wide and varied tastes in music. And while I watch very little television, I do confess a fondness for the Canadian production Letterkenny, an irreverent look at life in a small town in Ontario that translates well into small-town life most places. They make fun of almost every social issue at one point or another, and it’s refreshing to see a show where the main character is an unabashed “good ol’ boy” who doesn’t shy away from solving confrontations with his fists. And who wouldn’t love a show with characters named Squirrely Dan, Joint-Boy and Jivin’ Pete?
Anyway – one of the things I enjoy about the show is the soundtrack, where you will find clips from a variety of artists; some I don’t care for, some I find I enjoy, and I through the show I have discovered some Canadian indy acts I enjoy quite a bit. One of those is the show’s opening theme, which takes a few bars from the beginning of the song Who Needs A Girl Like You from the group Indian Wars. Here, for your enjoyment, is that song.
With a national debt crisis looking on the horizon, I’m seeing a fair amount of talk about selling Imperial assets (like the vast tracts of National Forest and Bureau of Land Management lands in the West) to pay off the national debt. I’m not in favor of this, for one selfish reason and two practical reasons.
First, the selfish reason: I have and do spend a lot of time on those public lands, which are at the moment mostly wide-open for recreational use including hunting, fishing and camping. If these lands went to private owners, I have no doubt that they would immediately be closed off to such use.
Second and third, the practical reasons: Placing land on the market at such a massive scale would drop prices, quite possibly to the point where the proceeds wouldn’t be nearly enough to get us out of the twenty-three trillion hole we’re in, and bear in mind that the Imperial government isn’t about to stop digging. Any deduction of the debt from such a sale would be temporary unless we could find a way to cancel Congress’ credit card.
And finally, most of all, I have precisely zero faith that the House of Representatives, who are responsible for spending government revenues, would use one penny of that money to address the Imperial debt. They would use that money as they use all money: Buying votes.
Remember when at least some of our conversations regarding race were all about uniting, about our common humanity, how bonds of love should overcome differences of skin tone, religion or national origins? The O’Jays do. Take a listen to their 1972 hit Love Train. This was originally cast as an anti-war song (not unusual in 1972) but it had another message as well. Listen to the lyrics. Tell me how that song would fly with today’s race hustlers. Plus, it’s just a pretty good tune.
We could frankly use a little more of this kind of message.
Spring doesn’t last long up here in the Great Land. Summer doesn’t, either. But it’s great while it’s here. Right now the birches and poplars are fully leafed out, with that bright green so characteristic of late spring and early summer. We have ferns and wildflowers coming up all over, along with some irises and various other plants around the yard. The greenhouse won’t get much use this year, as we don’t have seeds and equipment in time to get things started, but next year we’ll be making use of it.
After thirty years in semi-arid Colorado, it’s amazing how green everything is here in the Susitna Valley. There’s a lot more moisture, obviously, what with all the snowfall and the frequency of wet, drippy days. Still, like the old saying about April showers bringing May flowers, in Alaska it may be May showers bringing June flowers but it still holds true. Things are pretty here now but in a few more weeks they’ll be really gorgeous.
Here’s the problem with big proposals like this; if it were economically viable, someone would have already done it. If government has to pay for it, we shouldn’t be doing it. This one doesn’t pass the bullshit test.
Speaker Trump? I’d like to see that, just to watch leftist heads explode. Imagine President Biden mumbling and maundering his way through a State of the Union with Donald Trump sitting right behind him. If that wouldn’t bring the lulz, I don’t know what will.
Juan Williams is an idiot. I used to like Juan Williams; he seemed like a guy with principles, as opposed to politics, and I respect people with principles even if I don’t agree with them. But these days Juan seems to have devolved into just another partisan hack. That’s too bad.
Very few bands have ever matched the immortal Led Zeppelin. This is one of the greatest of their works, one in fact used to great effect by director Taika Waititi in Marvel’s tongue-in-cheek Thor: Ragnarok.
In 1978 or 79 – the exact year is a little fuzzy at this distance in time – I had the pleasure of seeing Zep live. My buddies and I managed to work our way up pretty close to the stage and at one point were about twenty feet from Robert Plant, who was on stage, hair flying, wailing in his best Seventies rock-band fashion. It was a neat experience. Here’s The Immigrant Song. Enjoy.
I started this Wednesday tradition with nothing more than the mid-week application of suitably-themed and totally gratuitous Rule Five totty, then expanded it to a links post, very shortly thereafter adding the “This Week’s Idiots” section and the cultural edification at the end, until, well, here we are. 350 posts in – that’s almost seven years of Hump Day News. I think that Wednesday posts have now achieved their final form. Hope you all like it.
Chicago Mayor Beetlejuice is a racist cunte, and an idiot. Seriously, put this shoe on the other foot – say, the white mayor of a major city granting one-on-one interviews only to white journalists. The media would (rightly) be outraged. That’s the difference between politics and principles. Mayor Beetlejuice and the complicit Chicago media has the former, not the latter.
We’ll always have Lou Reed, right? Imagine his 1972 tune Walk on the Wild Side being released today. Here are the first two verses:
Holly came from Miami, F.L.A. Hitch-hiked her way across the U.S.A. Plucked her eyebrows on the way Shaved her legs and then he was a she She says, “Hey, babe, Take a walk on the wild side.” Said, “Hey, honey, Take a walk on the wild side.”
Candy came from out on the Island In the back room she was everybody’s darling But she never lost her head Even when she was giving head She says, “Hey, babe, Take a walk on the wild side.” Said, “Hey, babe, Take a walk on the wild side.” And the colored girls go “Doo do doo do doo do do doo…”
It would almost be worth it to hear the RHEEEEEE from the SJW crowd, wouldn’t it? Here’s the entire song; enjoy.
This second week of May is finally seeing off most of the winter’s accumulation of snow here in the Great Land. Robins have returned, the birches and alders are greening up, and every afternoon sees more and more of our yard exposed. In a few more weeks, wildflowers will be blooming.
Of course, that means spring clean-up. It’s a little more work this year than will probably be the case most years, as the previous owners left us some stuff that, due to the midwinter sale, they were unable to clean up, although due to that they have kindly offered to help. But suffice it to say the burn barrel will be seeing some extensive service the next couple of weekends.
The good news is that we’ll have ample firewood for the coming winter, as the unusually heavy snow last winter broke off a couple of trees on the back of the property, so with those, some alders taken down by the power company, and what was left from last winter, we’ll be well-stocked.
Newsweek finds an acorn. And PJMedia’s Bryan Preston weighs in: Wokism rejects character and life’s complexities and subtleties. It places humans in boxes and categories based entirely on their race, not the content of their character or the actions they take. It rejects even the possibility of redemption. Wokism doesn’t allow for an individual’s character to matter at all. It’s segregationist, not unifying. Ten. Ring.
Scotland to vote for independence. Well, that could be interesting. If the English decide to use force to hold Scotland in line, they should pick someplace suitable to fight it out – say, Culloden Moor. I think the Scots would like some payback for that one.
Folks who have read these virtual pages for any time at all know that Mrs. Animal and yr. obdt. are both fond of the Land of the Rising Sun, of the land, the people, the culture, the food, the drink, and everything else. Recently one of our kids, also a Japanophile, sent us this; I’m not entirely what it’s a tutorial of, other than being Japanese, adorable, and good at producing synced front and back videos. This is NiziU, with Make You Happy. Enjoy.
On Saturday afternoon last, I was out on my deck with an ice-cold beer and a fine cigar, enjoying a fine, sunny Sustina Valley afternoon. After a bit, I heard a motorcycle stop on the road out in front of the property. Then I heard someone’s voice calling to something, and heard him crashing into the brush. So I went down to see what was going on. The motorcycle rider had seen this guy, whose left wing was broken. Near as we could figure, he had made to drop on some prey critter and had clipped the power line.
One of the neighbors came along, said they had a big dip net and a wire kennel. So they went and got it, then motorcycle guy and I managed to get the bird calmed down, into the net and then into the kennel. Meanwhile, the neighbors made some phone calls, and found they could take him down to Houston to the rehab center.
So off he went. Motorcycle guy and I both petted him on the head and told him everything was going to be OK.
And I really, really feel like I personally helped America.
He probably won’t fly again, they almost never do once a wing’s broken, but if not, he’ll have a comfortable career as an ambassador bird for the Matanuska-Sustina Borough schools, teaching kids about raptors.
No, Biden Doesn’t Have a Mandate to Remake America. No shit. They lost seats in the House, barely maintaining control, and managed a 50-50 tie in the Senate – only technically a majority because Heels-Up Harris holds the tie-breaking vote. Dems got roundly trounced at the state level. That, True Believers, does not a mandate make.
Texas mulls over Constitutional Carry. Predictable pants-shitting from legacy media ensues, even through several states already have this (including our own Alaska) and somehow the predictions of bodies lining the streets haven’t come to pass.
President Biden(‘s handlers) have released the draft of a “climate plan,” a feature of which is a limit on how much red meat we citizenssubjects serfs will be allowed to eat. To wit:
Americans may have to cut their red meat consumption by a whopping 90 percent and cut their consumption of other animal based foods in half.
Gradually making those changes by 2030 could see diet-related greenhouse gas emissions reduced by 50 percent, according to a study by Michigan University’s Center for Sustainable Systems.
To do that, it would require Americans to only consume about four pounds of red meat per year, or 0.18 ounces per day.
It equates to consuming roughly one average sized burger per month.
There are apparently requirements for electric vehicles, and so forth. I’d sure like to see someone explain how an electric vehicle will work here in our rural Alaska home, but let’s leave that for another time, because the deprivation of cheeseburgers is a damnably serious issue. And my reply to President Biden(‘s handlers) on that score is simple: They can fuck right off. You can have my delicious cheeseburgers when you pry them from my cold, dead hands. In fact, I think I will start eating more red meat now, just out of defiance.
Since our move to the Great Land, I’ve been thinking about the Old Man a lot. He would have loved this place. I would worry that our owning only a tad over two acres may have made him feel hemmed in, but the fact that there are thousands of acres of state land just behind us that he could have wandered at will would have eased that problem. Yesterday I was having a look ’round in my woods – that’s a great feeling, to be able to say my woods – and told Mrs. Animal, “there are a couple of dead birches I’ll have to knock down and cut up for firewood.” “You sound just like your Dad,” she said, and I’ve never received higher praise than that.
You don’t see a lot of Aussie culture up this way, but back in the Eighties, the Aussie band Men At Work got a fair amount of play on American radio (and on MTV, back when MTV was still ‘Music Television.’) Here is that band with their 1980 hit Down Under. I’m not sure why the Aussies haven’t yet made this their national anthem. Enjoy!
Spring seems to be (finally) coming to the Great Land. After weeks of prevailing winds blowing out from south-central Alaska into Cook Inlet, dragging cold air down from above the Arctic Circle, the last few days have finally dawned warmer. By the weekend we should have temps in the low fifties and sunshine.
That, of course, is a recipe for wet and muddy surroundings, but at least the new house is on high ground. According to the folks who we bought the house from, who left us detailed notes, the slope keeps the yard and the upper driveway fairly dry during snow-melt. Over the next few days, we’ll see for ourselves.
And yes, we still love it here. More than we expected we would, and we expected we would love it a great deal. Breathing the free air of Alaska is like taking a step into a new world.
Casting for Indiana Jones and the Nursing Home of Doom is under way. Or will it be Raiders of the Lost Bedpan? Kingdom of the Crystal Colonoscopy? Either way, this is a franchise that jumped the shark on the last installment and needs to just drop.
Good point. Markets aren’t always “fair” but usually get things right.
“Did you really think we want those laws observed?” said Dr. Ferris. “We want them to be broken. You’d better get it straight that it’s not a bunch of boy scouts you’re up against… We’re after power and we mean it… There’s no way to rule innocent men. The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren’t enough criminals one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws. Who wants a nation of law-abiding citizens? What’s there in that for anyone? But just pass the kind of laws that can neither be observed nor enforced or objectively interpreted – and you create a nation of law-breakers – and then you cash in on guilt. Now that’s the system, Mr. Reardon, that’s the game, and once you understand it, you’ll be much easier to deal with.”
― Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged
Man, I had the hots for Debbie Harry back in the day. Here’s a representative piece of her work, also from back in the day; this is Blondie’s 1980 hit Call Me, from the soundtrack of the Richard Gere – Lauren Hutton grenade American Gigolo, an execrable movie but not a bad song. Best of all, Call Me featured a smoking hot lead singer, the aforementioned Debbie Harry. Enjoy.
One week ago today we completed our initial journey to the Great Land with truck and trailer, and things just couldn’t be going any better. We still have to deal with a lot of snow on the ground – we haven’t even been able to get to, much less into, our greenhouse yet – but even here in Willow, winter is losing its grip on the countryside. The snow is melting, a little bit day by day, and before we know it, the wildflowers will be blooming. On Sunday last, in fact, a great mass of snow finally slid off our roof, partially blocking the drive and requiring a fair amount of shoveling.
Oh, and we had a lynx walk through the yard, right past the house. We didn’t see him but found his tracks the other morning.
Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart (who, as we recently noted, also played with Tom Petty) performed as Eurythmics, and had kind of a neat style. Not my usual cup of tea, but they had talent, and a unique kind of sound. Here’s a good example of their work; this is 1983’s Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This.) Enjoy.