Jasper In His Makeshift Pram

 

Dog Attack - June 2, 2026

On our morning walk, Jasper and I met a couple walking a little boxer dog. The dog is a new adoptee and is just starting to socialize with neighborhood dogs. We had met this dog once before so I encouraged Jasper to walk over and say hello. Big mistake. 

The dog latched onto Jasper’s front right foot, and crushed it for two or three minutes as Jasper cried and screamed and flailed, as we tried and failed to loosen the dog’s grip, injuring me in the process. It was like something from the worst horror movie ever. 

I’ve taken Jasper to his usual vet, Midtown Animal Hospital. It’s a busy morning over there, so they are working on him as time and resources permit, first off, by cleaning the wound. They intend on sedating him so they can get an X-Ray of his foot. They suspect broken bones. Sometime in the afternoon I’ll pick him up and get a better idea of cost. The couple are nice and offered to pay. 

Still. 

[UPDATE:  The vet informs me that there is an oblique break on bone #5 in the paw. Fortunately arteries were not cut. She will debride the wounds and stitch it up, particularly on the bottom of the paw, which she describes as “gnarly.” Jasper will have a splint, with minimal walking for the next 2 months. The next visit will be Friday, to change dressings. I will retrieve Jasper after 4 pm.]

Sierra Research Get-Together - May 30, 2026

A good time was had by all!

Sacramento Celebrities

Walking the runway at Sacramento's John Moss Building.

On Thursday, I was leaving the ICE demonstration at the John Moss Building in Sacramento when I saw a man writing parking tickets on behalf of the City of Sacramento. (Indeed, I received one of his tickets.) I asked him, “Are you writing parking tickets?” “Yes,” he replied, with grim disdain. 

Later, I learned from the Sacramento subreddit on Reddit, that the ticket writer is Grant Nakamura. He has something of a fan following as the most zealous of ticket writers in Sacramento; a kind-of Javert of parking-permission fanaticism. Now I’m wondering whether to pay the ticket, or keep it as a souvenir.

The Imbroglio At ICE Headquarters - May 28, 2026

There was an imbroglio at Sacramento’s John Moss Building, ICE HQ, this evening (Thursday, May 28, 2026). I arrived a few minutes late, so I didn’t see much, but relied on what others said happened.

A vehicle was leaving the ICE compound gate and Scott with his iPhone was challenging it with accustomed thoroughness, when the vehicle’s irritated driver rolled down the window, grabbed Scott’s iPhone and drove off. Scott grabbed the vehicle’s steering wheel through the window and was dragged halfway down the block, suffering significant and painful abrasions to the left side of his body. 

When I arrived, Sacramento Police Department (SacPD) officers were interviewing Scott and other witnesses and obtaining any available video. Those of us on the Left were hostile and occasionally used abusive language towards the officers. One officer in particular was hurt and offended that we were questioning his motives. He and his fellow officers were just trying to play a neutral role here, trying to determine what laws might have been violated, trying to serve justice, and help Scott. 

SacPD has been quietly supportive of ICE over the last several years, no matter Sacramento’s Sanctuary City status, or what anyone on the City Council might think. SacPD’s professed neutrality here seemed rich. As one of us on the Left loudly argued, not only did SacPD fail to detain or arrest the perpetrator of ICE violence, but they actually escorted him away. 

So, no one was happy. SacPD didn’t get their proper respect and the protesters saw society’s rules get disregarded. 

It will be interesting to see what happens next. Will someone from ICE actually get arrested? How neutral and professional is SacPD? How quickly will Scott heal? Videos may be forthcoming, particularly Scott’s video.

[UPDATE: My Facebook post on this subject was swarmed by the mouth-breathers on the right, including a few people that I actually know, including a martial artist and a former roller derby competitor (natural fascists there).  The comments are an entertaining read.  Comments continue to come in. I've deleted about 3/4 of the comments, leaving only those that serve me in some way.]

Oddly enough, the police interview between Scott and SacPD went politely enough.  The fix was in on everything else at this point, so the officers probably figured under the circumstances they may as well be polite.  The police requested and received Scott's video via iPhone Airdrop.

Below is Scott's crystal-clear video showing the grabby ICE guy, together with the KCRA-3 article where they state that somehow Scott's phone dropped into the ICE vehicle.

Police said there was an altercation between a pedestrian demonstrating near the building and a federal employee who was trying to leave.

The demonstrator tried to stop the employee from driving away while filming the employee with their phone, police said.

At some point, the demonstrator's phone fell into the employee's vehicle as they drove away, according to police.

And interestingly enough (maybe because of my E-Mailed complaint) the KCRA-3 article has been updated, quietly demonstrating that Sac PD likely lied to KCRA-3 about what happened.

Check out the video.  It's pretty clear. (The video ends abruptly because the iPhone view was jostled into selfie mode, so remaining views on the unedited video are apparently of the interior console.)
 

@k9.life.coach

♬ Trench Work - NIGHT-OG

A Few Thoughts On Elon Musk's Campaign Against "The Odyssey"

My, oh my, Elon Musk and his associates are in high racist dudgeon about Christopher Nolan's soon-to-be-released "The Odyssey," particularly with black Kenyan-Mexican actress, Lupita Nyong'o, playing Helen of Troy. My first inclination is to simply dismiss anything Musk says. But then, the point of the racists isn't answered. It's better to try to answer their point. 

Since joining (friend Gabe's) Classics Book Club on Discord two years ago, we've been reading Emily Wilson's translation of Homer's "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey." So, the material is fresh. 

Lupita Nyong'o herself dismisses any controversy by saying "This is a mythological story." It's tempting to accept that dismissal, but the writings of Homer (or the collection of authors that we now call Homer) are only about 2,800 years old, making them fairly recent by mythological standards. Particularly given the coherence of Greek literature there are reasons to believe Odysseus and many other people in his world actually lived. What gets called myth and what gets called history gets really messy with fairly-recent material like this. 

One unassailable fact is that Greek literature, with Homer at the core, has been the basis of European education since at least the Enlightenment, and for some, as far back as the Renaissance. "The Odyssey" certainly feels real enough to have influenced many generations of readers. For most practical purposes, "The Odyssey" is as real as it gets. 

Translator Emily Wilson makes the point that we moderns have to be very careful about imposing our modern ideas back upon the past. For example, when referring to the ocean, which surrounded them on all sides, the ancient Greeks talked about "the wine-dark sea," mostly because wine and seawater sparkle similarly in the bright sunlight. One thing the Greeks don't mention is the seawater appearing blue in color, because "blue" was a concept they didn't yet have. Wine and seawater both have a dark tone and so, to them, were similar in visual impact. Mindbending! 

So, what did the ancient Greeks think about what we call race? We don't really know, because they really didn't say. There were certainly many differences among the peoples who sailed the ancient Aegean Sea, and they commented about some of those differences, especially what peoples did for a living - herders, horsemen, warriors, farmers, sailors, etc. - and they certainly were aware of cultural differences, but the ancient Greeks didn't say much more than that. The modern concept of race doesn't appear. No extra distinction appears between Africans and other peoples from the Black Sea. 

Since there were so many people in his epic poems Homer frequently-used what are called "epithets" - handles, basically. So there's swift-footed Achilles, warlike Menelaus, old Priam, bright-eyed Athena, etc. In regard to goddesses (e.g., Hera, Aphrodite), demigoddesses (e.g., Helen), or noble women (e.g., Penelope), the most-frequently used epithet is "white armed." It probably means high-status women spent much of their time indoors and weren't sunburnt like everyone else. It doesn't necessarily mean they were what we call white, though. 

Plus, it is the artist's prerogative to take written works from one society and apply them to another society, like how director Akira Kurosawa, took Shakespeare's "King Lear" and applied it to Japanese society. Doing so makes art fun! Christopher Nolan certainly has the right to use the talents of Lupita Nyong'o to bring to life Helen of Troy. I'm certainly anticipating seeing for myself, come release of the movie in July. 

So, go home, Elon. You're drunk on ketamine.

I'll Just Help Myself

Jasper is getting willful. Due to my cold, I lost interest in a chicken sandwich I was eating. I left the sandwich at the edge of the table, next to a chair. As soon as I started napping Jasper reached up and helped himself to the sandwich.

Farewell, Flaming Chariot!

Last week, I noticed a note on my 1993 Ford Ranger pickup truck's windshield asking me if I wanted to sell.  Actually, I was thinking of that. 

So, on Monday, I called the number, and with unseemly haste a family raced up from Galt to purchase the vehicle before I changed my mind. 

My motive to sell now was mostly due to finances. I had some chagrin about that. I appreciated having two old vehicles to drive, because in the event that mechanical failure took down one vehicle, there was always another vehicle at the ready. At the same, two old vehicles means twice the number of potential defects, and there was always the burden of twice the insurance payments, registrations, and smog checks. Since 2023, when I bought Sunshine, the yellow 2002 Mazda Protege 5, I've been driving the pickup truck only about 1,000 miles a year: hauling stuff and dump runs and the like. So, I'm back to owning just one vehicle which I hope doesn't break down very often. 

Maybe I'm worried about what my prepper sister said.  She said the Time of Suffering is coming.  It sounds like the Apocalypse, except for the secular set.  I live in California.  I'm not interested in Suffering.  But, who knows?

The desire to own a pickup truck hit me at midnight December 2, 2017, while I was driving my 2002 Saturn sports coupe eastward on Highway 50 in West Sacramento at 60 mph. Actually, it was a Ford Ranger pickup truck that hit me, driven by a maniac who worked in a pizza restaurant out near Winters, racing back home to Sacramento after work. This jerk was driving at least 90 mph: probably closer to 120 mph, when he slammed into the back of my car. The crash was spectacular. I hit the pickup truck in front of me, spun out of control, and had real trouble bringing my car to a stop.

Strangely enough, I suffered only a minor cut and was otherwise unhurt. I attribute my good fortune under the circumstances to an acquaintance in Zumba class, who died in a car accident in July, 2017.  I had trouble finding her descanso, but in a remarkable synchronicity, finally did locate her memorial on accident date, December 2, 2017. (Ooooowweeeoooo!) I can't help but think angelic power she had gained helped shield me from harm.

I was outraged when the CHP cop that responded blamed me for the accident. Apparently the cop was gullible. He talked first with the driver of the Ford Ranger and accepted his story that I was going 20 mph down the freeway and that's why he hit me while he was driving 60 mph. 

I got so angry that I started stalking the home of the driver. A strange passion overtook me. I returned to the accident site and collected broken pieces of my car and the pickup truck's license plate, which had broken free in the accident. Two nearby people became alarmed at my presence and threatened to beat me. Mostly what I wanted was what the Plains Indians customarily did after battles: taking and wearing the clothes and belongings of fallen enemy warriors. 

This practice of literally owning an enemy's belongings really creeped out U.S. soldiers in the 1800s. The presence of what appeared to be U.S. cavalry in the distance who wouldn't come to their aid really bothered the besieged soldiers on Reno Hill at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876.  The desperate soldiers thought these were Custer's men ignoring them.  Not true!  They weren't U.S. cavalry at all; just dressed as them! 

It's very primal thing to want to OWN your assailant. It's like drinking your fallen enemy's blood to gain strength. I wanted to own everything he owned. 

So, I started shopping for a Ford Ranger pickup on Craigslist, and found the 1993 one. Even though it was a different year, it was at least the same make and model as the truck that hit me. 

Now, that may not be the best reason to buy a truck, but there it was. By December 21, 2017, the registration process was complete. 

I had many good and tender times in the truck. Among these times was when I drove to Placerville on October 1, 2018 to pick up a new puppy. Brave Jasper rode in my lap and tried to look over the steering wheel as I drove him down into Sacramento that evening.

What followed over the years was a process of weeding out various mechanical defects, replacing tires, brake system, and getting a new head gasket in 2019. 

The ventilation ducts of the truck accumulated leaves from the hedge looming above its parking space. These leaves were prone to catching fire if I tried to use the heater or the A/C, which yielded the truck's nickname: the Flaming Chariot. On December 3, 2022, I had a massive gas tank leak while driving down the freeway, and indeed, nearly became a real “Flaming Chariot.” 

Good times!

I understand the new owners will use the truck for Door Dash deliveries and the truck will typically be found in cherry orchards near Stockton. So, in a real sense I've put the truck out to pasture!

And maybe too, after a decade dominated by Trump and vengeance, the passion is beginning to wind down.  I don't need to own a pizza maker.  I don't need to own anyone but myself.  And maybe too the Time of Suffering is a phantasm that will evaporate.  Time for peace.

Heading Towards End of School Year

This week in my job as a substitute instructional assistant at the local Montessori school was kind-of brutal.  I was there three days straight and spent almost the entire time on my feet, employed mostly as a shusher, trying to keep an upper EL class (grades 4-6) quiet enough for academic work to proceed.  This class apparently has a reputation for being overly-dramatic, but I noticed no scenery-chewing issues on my watch. I also helped supervise kindergartners at recess. 

When I got to the upper EL class I discovered that one of the students had bronchitis, and was hacking up a lung.  It was clear that I was doomed.  The student apparently had returned to class too soon, and so now I would have a cold too.  Plus, I'm just not used to working this hard!

Still, the class was interesting to me.  I was their age nearly sixty years ago, and despite various superficial changes - brighter colors and newer technology - I have the sense that nothing at all has changed.  I feel like I've always known these kids.  They are exactly the same as we were - the furtive glances, the inside jokes, the sporadic noises they make, running and skipping across the floor, not following instructions, their easily-hurt feelings, and their occasional desire to be left alone.  And the pencil sharpener, of course.  Very disruptive in my day; less so now, but still there.

I got closer to trouble than I would have liked.  At recess one lunchtime, I supervised the action at the Gaga Ball Court.  Trouble is, we never had Gaga Ball in the old days, and I don't know the rules.  A girl asked if she could join the action and I said yes, but the round wasn't over, so the other players ordered her out.  She cried to another teaching assistant and I had to apologize to her for my bad decision to admit her too soon.  Later, I learned that a report was being filed about some other action that occurred there.  The students had been rough and I interceded several times to prevent fights, but someone complained nonetheless.  I was asked if I heard specific insults, and I hadn't, but I did hear "Your Mom" too many times.

The kindergartners were fun, as usual.  One girl seems to me to be ready to join society as a "Karen": a girl looking for the proper level of management to address her various irritations.  She was irritated that her mom had failed to give her ready-made popcorn as a snack, but instead had given her microwavable packets of popcorn, which, of course, requires a microwave oven.  Many classrooms have microwave ovens, but still, the permission of teachers had to be sought.  We teaching assistants shrugged our shoulders at her distress. The girl would have to address upper-level management.

The play structure at the park.

As the academic year runs down, it was time for the annual Field Trip, which consisted of walking to a nearby park for much of the day, then walking back.  Pizza and snacks were provided. A number of parents came along as chaperones. 

The worrisome teeter-totter.

I apprehensively-watched kids on a playground teeter-totter, especially when two kids each loaded both sides and other kids tried to force the speed and make the rocking more violent, but the device was well-designed and no one got hurt.  Not that students didn't try.  At one point I was throwing lawn darts back and forth at one kid - probably a bad idea from a safety perspective - but his father was supervising, so we all skated.

On the walk back from the park, several students - what seemed to me to be an identifiable cohort of throwback kids from the Seventies - began leading the students in singing various older songs, edging into Classic-Rock, namely: "Last Christmas" (George Michael and WHAM), "All Star" (Smashmouth), "California Gurls" (Katy Perry), "We Are The Champions" (Queen), plus a few others. Once back in the class, the teacher played a more-recent video, namely "Replay" (from the Korean boy band SHINee).

On Thursday afternoon, I inadvertently encountered one of the upper EL girl students, age probably about eleven, several times.  At one point, she was creeping underneath a metal picnic table, croaking in a disturbing, Exorcist-like way.  I told her, "You seem to be possessed by a demon.  Should we call your parents?" Her jaw dropped in that faux-shock way tweens have to indicate amusement.

Since I was making her laugh, the girl wanted to know more about who I was, but since I don’t come to school very often, no one in her clique of friends knew anything about me. So, during free-wheeling art period, she decided to send me a series of messages in a manner usually reserved for learning more about cute new boys in the class. I was anything but; I'm just a crusty old dude, but the template allowed her to ask questions that would normally be considered rude and intrusive (and her friends warned her repeatedly about her brazenness). Other kids served as message carriers, with one being the principal message carrier.  The messages were written on one, maybe two, pieces of paper, and were public for her friends to see.

First, my name. What was my name?  A message carrier answered for me, saying that my name was Mr. Dude. She replied, that her name was Ms. Bro. I said that we were The Dudes.

She asked for my favorite color, which is orange. She initially said orange too, but then changed her mind to violet; nearly opposite on the color wheel.

She said she liked my hair. A brazen lie! I replied that hair is fleeting and that she should enjoy hers. What did I use for shampoo? (She uses rose-scented shampoo). I replied Pantene Classic Clean. The principal message carrier laughed. Who took care of my eyebrows? I replied that Norm the Barber administers those. “Norm,” she repeated skeptically.

I had been rocking a bit to the music the teacher was playing in the background. She said “I like your dance moves.” I replied “I refrain from twerking.” She replied “That is probably for the best.” Much laughter among her friends.  Principal message carrier literally ROFL!

She asked where I got my clothes.  I replied J.C. Penney's.  She replied she gets her clothes at Target (particularly emphasizing the hard "G" in the name and deliberately avoiding the faux-French pronunciation people often like). She stated she gets many things at Target.  Her friend added "And at Trader Joe's too."

And so it continued, comparing coffee orders, dabbing, not liking Trump, etc. When her and her friends departed for Car Line she said I should go to Car Line too.  "All the good people go to Car Line," she said, with more than a little deadpan sarcasm. I demurred and headed instead to the office.

Because I tried to be as flexible as possible, and truthfully answer questions that might otherwise be considered rude, we all enjoyed ourselves.  We were edgy without being creepy, and now we know each other a bit better than before.

"Antigone in Munich: The Sophie Scholl Story" - Mira Loma High School

Rachel and I went to go see her son Larry in the final performance of "Antigone in Munich: The Sophie Scholl Story." Penelope Deen was excellent as Sophie Scholl (a member of the student-based White Rose Society, trying to fight back against the Nazis) as she underwent Nazi interrogation.  The Interrogator was good too.

The Day Mount St. Helens Exploded

Never forget! May 18, 1980. David Johnston at 23:00 in this video provides the warning, but will people listen?

 

"The Wizard of the Kremlin"

I was excited to see the new Olivier Assayas film at the Tower Theater. The film relies on the audience to remember forty years of recent Russian history: the FSB, the oligarchs, Yeltsin, the terrorist bombings, the war in Georgia, Kadyrov and Prigozhin, the Crimean invasion and the Orange Revolution. Gotta keep up!

I had a bit of a problem understanding people's speech. I may not have been alone. I overheard one man talking with his friends afterwards saying that he only understood about 60% of what was said. Part of this was there was not a unified control on accents in the show, reflecting the diverse international cast. 

Still, this is an excellent film, as are all films Assayas is involved with:

It begins with Baranov’s student days in the early 1990s, in the heady “new Russia,” just after Soviet communism had collapsed. Everything felt possible and money flowed freely. As Baranov recalls it, those days felt like a never-ending bash, or maybe an orgy, where you might watch a naked man on a leash follow a punk rock singer around at a house party. As an avant-garde theater student and then director, Baranov lived a life of art and poetry with his girlfriend, Ksenia (Alicia Vikander). When the vulgar but fun Dmitri Sidorov (Tom Sturridge), the inventor of Russia’s first commercial bank, enters their lives, things grow brighter, then more sour. 

But Baranov moves on, taking a job in trashy reality television production, and this is where the historical tale begins to take shape. “The Wizard of the Kremlin” is really a movie about how Russia went from those heady post-Soviet days to the rise of the oligarchy to, eventually, the establishment of Vladimir Putin (a mostly chilling Jude Law) as president, a former K.G.B. officer who valued power over money. The oligarchs who choose Putin as Boris Yeltsin’s successor realize too late that this man will not be their pawn. “What interests me is restoring integrity to the Russian Federation,” he tells Baranov. And that means consolidating power — in himself.

 

KF

 !!!

A Puzzling Place For a Turkey To Bed Down

In front of the pumps at the gas station.

FAFO Time!

I'm Beginning To Get Optimistic About This California Gubernatorial Race!

Becerra and Steyer are surging; Hilton and Bianco are not.  It's possible that instead of two Republicans in the general election race, it will be two Democrats:

A new Emerson College Polling/Inside California Politics poll of the primary election for Governor of California finds former Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra leading the field at 19%, followed by Steve Hilton and Tom Steyer at 17% respectively. Ten percent support Katie Porter, and 8% Matt Mahan. Twelve percent are undecided. 

“Xavier Becerra tops the crowded California primary for the first time in an Emerson poll, his support increased by nine points since mid-April, driven by now being the top choice among Democratic voters at 31%,” Spencer Kimball, executive director of Emerson College Polling, said. “Steve Hilton and Tom Steyer closely follow at 17% respectively, Hilton’s support stagnant, while Steyer’s support increased three points since April.”

"Eddington" (2025)

Link to map

Originally posted May 13, 2026. Updated: May 14, 2026


Link to Top-Level Menu
Link to Top-Level Map

This week, as part of my ongoing project to see recent movies filmed in Albuquerque, I watched "Eddington" (2025) on Amazon Prime. The film is written, produced, and directed by Ari Aster, stars Joaquin Phoenix and features Emma Stone. 

Aster also produced "Bugonia" (2025), starring Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons; a very clever movie about people caught up in ridiculous conspiracy theories. Of all the films I saw in 2025, "Bugonia" was my favorite. Aster went to college in Santa Fe and spent years in New Mexico. That local knowledge helps in a movie like this. 

Like "Bugonia," "Eddington" is also mired in conspiracy theories. I think Aster aspires to be the most-relevant director of our conspiracy-burdened times. 

Joaquin Phoenix is brilliant as Sheriff Joe Cross. He's able to swing from maudlin speeches to twitchy fury, and back again, in seconds. 

The movie is set in 2020, at the start of the Covid-19 pandemic and during the George Floyd riots. The characterization of the time is exaggerated and harsh - absurd, really - and before long the movie 'jumps the shark' entirely, not just once, but a number of times. Still, the effect is really interesting and I recommend the movie. 

Albuquerque is used as a filming location for only two minor scenes, so this isn't really an Albuquerque movie. There are important scenes filmed in "Santa Fe County," which may not, in fact, be true - I still need to resolve these sites. 

Much of "Eddington" is filmed in Truth or Consequences (TorC), (the southern New Mexico town of 6,000 whose name was changed from Hot Springs to the radio game-show name in March, 1950). TorC really shines in this movie (indeed, current Google Earth imagery was taken during filming, so locations appear there as seen in the movie). 

A strange movie; perfect for our times!

 

- - - - - - - 

Notes on Individual Scenes

(First draft)

Walking on road, with two cylindrical tanks in distance - ?

Village tank with mural - Hilltop - 344 W. 2nd Ave., Truth or Consequences, NM (TorC)

Traffic stop - northern NM, somewhere among so-called "Santa Fe County" sites.

Dispatch

Eddington city limits sign - ?

Walking in TorC near Garcia's Bar, 205 S. Foch St., TorC

Garcia's Bar -  200 S. Foch St., TorC

Driving on street, about 890 N. Broadway St.

Supermarket, 630 N. Broadway Street, TorC

Sheriff's office, 308 N. Broadway Street, TorC

Joe and Ted meet at the intersection of Broadway and Jones Streets.

Ted Garcia's house - ?

Walking down street for TV ad - about 610, N. Broadway St., TorC

Paula's Restaurant exterior, 313 N. Broadway St., adjacent to Fire Water Lodge at 311.

Gathering spot, Radium St., adjacent to Louis Armijo Sports Complex, 2800 S. Broadway St., TorC

Sheriff's house

Sheriff's office

Brian's house 

House on hill, dinner

General view of street, vicinity of 520 N. Broadway St.

The Word - Conversations in Christ, 520 N. Broadway St.

Campaigning down street - S. Foch and Broadway Streets

Demonstration - McAdoo and Daniels

Sheriff's office

Making posters - McAdoo and Daniels

Brian's house

Sheriff's house

Big demonstration, vicinity of 520 N. Broadway St.

Paula's Restaurant

Shooting range - ?

Driving home and Sherriff's house

Ted Garcia's house

Wrong way on street in vicinity of 310 N. Broadway St., with right turn on Foch.

Bar shooting

Body in river - ?

Ted Garcia's house

Silhouette of Sandias - Welcome to Gloria, NM - 1 Paseo del Norte NW, Albuquerque, NM 

(35.188777, -106.782417)

Covid testing in vicinity of Double Eagle Airport, Albuquerque, NM, but exact location is uncertain.

Ted Garcia's house

Shed - girl's house

Eddington Town Hall, 301 S. Foch St.

Aircraft - probably stock footage

Video of wedding

Sheriff's house

Driving around Broadway and Jones again.

Interrogation and search

Curve in street - about 103 N. Broadway St.  Turn east on Roverside Dr.

By Ralph Edwards Park

Driving in hills. Sheriff's house

Bandstand cupola - Ralph Edwards Park

Town at night - Sheriff's office

Zozobra - White Supremacy - Austin Ave. and McElroy Ave.

Burning cross on Poplar St. near Matson Ave. (marks still visible on Google Eath)

Burning barrel - explosion - drone

Sheriff's house (address number is "25")

Heading to water tank

Memorial Board is across from Davis-Fleck Pharmacy, 500 N. Broadway, next to Bank of the Southwest

U.S. Post Office and Branch Bank visible as Joe descends hill

Geronimo Springs Museum, 211 Main Ave.  Joe runs down Jones, from Main

Gunther's Pistol Palace, 303 Jones St.

Shootout - At 341 Jones, Joe crosses over along the alley and Sims St., From Jones to Foch to Daniels, to about 541 Sims St., or so, behind Bank of the Southwest

Emergency room, SolidGoldMagicKarp Data Center

Santa Lupe Pueblo Community Center, Bathroom, and Shooting Range

Return to the School

In preparation for my trip to Albuquerque in February I started working less in my role as a substitute teaching assistant at the Montessori school.  I was slow to return to the work. Three months have passed, and recently I began working again. I missed out on most of the spring semester, so now it's a matter of refamiliarizing myself; relearning students names, and having them relearn mine. Fortunately, the students have been happy to see me again. 

The school is going through a spasm of reconstruction, so the ways of olde have been disrupted. For example, middle school students now hold class in the cafeteria and in an outdoors tent. Several portable classrooms have been removed, so classrooms may have been combined, new fences have been erected, and the old pathways altered. 

"Laser!" shouted the one student who insists on Star-Wars-fantasy play, to the near-exclusion of other forms, and thus the alienation of other playmates. "I thought I left you on the Plains of Nullibor," I muttered in response. The student, my nemesis, smiled back in a steely way. 

Two boys who seem like refugees from the Seventies, with their 70s bro-handshakes (which they have christened 'dabbing'), were overjoyed to see me. In their circle, handshakes with me, an actual refugee from the 70s, were apparently made mandatory, so several other boys who I didn't know but were part of the circle came over to do their due diligence and shake my hand in 70s style too. The leader of the circle loves dinosaurs, and his story is that even though their teacher is older than the hills, I am older still, and can actually recollect that special day when the asteroid arrived to wipe out the dinosaurs. 

One first-grade girl came over. She's missing most of her front teeth now, which I guess happens to some in the first grade. She wanted to talk about the old days (namely, 2025). "I used to see you at Club M when I was in kindergarten," she said. "I saw you after that," I replied, "in particular, I saw you in your first grade class." She was surprised; she didn't remember. "What was I doing?" she asked. "Language or math?" "Oh, I think you were doing language," I replied. "You were busy so you don't remember me being there." 

Last week, I substituted in the middle school class and helped monitor a test in the cafeteria. It was trying at times, since noisy kindergartners came to the cafeteria too, to get lunches and cause disruptions. As I watched the class, two boys exchanged glances. One boy tore off a small piece of paper, wrote a note on it, rolled the piece of paper into a small ball, and threw it on the floor at the other kid's feet. It's been nearly sixty years, but my middle school instincts, once honed to perfection at Taylor Middle School in Albuquerque's North Valley in the late 60s, were still intact. I knew that the note was to be found under the kid's right foot. Thus began a contest of wills, which the kid tried to survive by Playing Dumb. I've never seen any other kid Play Dumb quite this well. I jostled the kid's feet with my right foot. The kid helpfully moved his left foot in order to show that he had nothing to hide. 

Yesterday, I was in a Lower El class (grades 1-3). It was amusing listening to some of the petty interactions between tablemates. "Stop it! You're humming!" one girl complained. "I think better when I hum, which I'm doing quietly, and if it bothers you, you should go get some headphones to wear!" the humming girl replied.  It's frustrating to be in elementary school classes, sometimes.

Today, I was with a group of kindergartners. Students ate bananas at snack time.  I stated that I had a hard time eating an entire banana at one sitting, since they are so sweet.  A kid replied that with my big belly I should have a near-infinite capacity to eat bananas.

One of the kindergarten students started acting out, so the rest of the class was sent for an unusually-long time to the school garden, which was still accessible despite the school reconstruction. The kids became interested in a tall sunflower which bore sunflower seeds. Since I was the tallest I picked the seeds, one by one. Some students ate the seeds while others found places to plant them. There was a bit of a problem with sunflower-seed greed, with one girl in particular demanding more and more seeds. After awhile I became dimly-aware that the sunflower was probably a project by one of the other kindergarten classes. Maybe we should have asked.  But at least a good time was had by all. 

Just before class ended, an old problem returned. "Laser!" My nemesis had found me again. "I don't believe you are real," I replied, "but rather a clone." "Reality!" the student shouted, before I was beset by electrocution rays.  Welcome back!

"Drop Dead" - Olivia Rodrigo

My favorite pop tune of the moment. Happy! Optimistic!

 

I Like This Take On The Unexpected Collapse of Lindy's Diner in Albuquerque

"Les Misérables" - Norcal Arts - May 8, 2026

(more)

"Billy Elliot" - Woodland Opera House - May 2, 2026

(more)

"Shrek, The Musical" - DMTC - April 25, 2026

On Saturday night, April 25th, I headed across the Highway-50 Yolo Causeway to see "Shrek, The Musical" at Davis Musical Theatre Company (DMTC). This show is important to me, since I was Stage Manager for the first time DMTC ever did this show, back in 2013.

(more)

The Gauntlet of May

So many local musical theater productions to see this month! How can I find the time?

Finding Locations For "Honey Don't!"

I've restarted a project to watch as many movies filmed in Albuquerque, NM, as possible. Lately, I've enjoyed determining filming locations for "Honey Don't!", a sort-of hard-boiled detective mystery for the lesbian set, starring Margaret Qualley and Aubrey Plaza. 

The movie is set in Bakersfield, CA, and displays an all-too-familiar Hollywood bias, a disdain for flyover America. I don't like that bias. In a way, we are all from Bakersfield, or places like it. We need to respect Bakersfield. 

At the same time, the movie has an opening credits montage sequence featuring gritty old Bakersfield. I love montages like this: a thumbnail tour of the city!

The Latest Innovation at the Weekly Howe at Arden Protest

Jasper Doesn't Grasp How This Maze Of Low Riders Suddenly Popped Up At His Corner Gas Station

Theme: Rappers Ball by E40

Mocking ICE; Turning Them Back

It Would Solve So Many Problems

I thought the term 86 came from law enforcement and meant killing, but now I understand it comes from catering and food safety and just means removal.

Jasper's 8th Birthday

Born on April 29, 2018, in Placerville, CA.

Don’t let exaggerated fears run your life, like Jasper here, afraid of a birthday balloon caught on the grass and dodging erratically in the wind.

Over-Lubricated Point of Friction

Occasionally, while protesting, there are moments of friction. One of these moments occurred on Saturday afternoon, April 25th, at the very end of our protest. A woman present at the protest with her family was using a megaphone to emphasize a theme popular among those of us on the Left: "Fuck Trump, and if you voted for him, fuck you too!" It's a bit of an abrasive message, I'll admit, but it's short and memorable. 

A man approached her and pleasantly said, "I'd like to ask you a question." Then he abruptly started throwing fingers at her, and at all of us nearby. He apparently had no question to ask. Hmmmm.... He appeared to be hoarding anger, apparently not so much for her message, but at her. She was a loud woman. Very loud!  It's hard to ignore a woman with a megaphone.

Given that the protest was ending, several of us immediately formed a squad to escort the woman and her family, with their various signs and belongings, back to their car. I got right in the guy's face as he backed up, flinging fingers at his cheekbones, pushing him at one point, and taking note of the alcohol on his breath. (He vehemently denied having had any alcohol, but the nose does not lie - I doubt he could have passed a breathalyzer test). 

Pushed back by the righteous and sober Left, he eventually drove away in his extended-cab black Toyota Tundra. I placed a call to the California Highway Patrol, to help create a paper trail should he start yelling at more loud women on the way home.

If you ever see this Over-Lubricated guy, throw all your fingers at him. If you are a woman, make sure to yell at him using a megaphone.

Yuja Wang and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra - Mondavi Center, UC Davis - April 27, 2026

Courtesy of, and thanks to, Gabriel and Eleanor McAuliffe, I went on Monday to UC Davis' Mondavi Center. Gabe and Eleanor have good seats. I was able to clearly see Yuja Wang's fingers and just revel in her tactile mastery. (Wikipedia entry on Yuja Wang)

Part of her stagecraft is her dress. On Monday night, in the first half before intermission, she was wearing a white, form-fitting dress with a pronounced sort-of fluffy shoulder strap. She also wore what appeared to be Christian Louboutin red-bottom stilettoes (which the Breaking-Bad fan in me appreciated).

Gabe sent this example (first video) of Yuja Wang’s extraordinary virtuosity.

 

Mira Loma High School Taiko Club Performs at Sacramento's Buddhist Church - April 25, 2026

Opening Performance of a Music Festival.

 

Prediction Markets Can Be Manipulated So, So Easily

They are a menace:

 

@elenanisonoff The hairdryer that broke polymarket #ai #tech #news ♬ original sound - elenanisonoff

Amusing Rant, Describing Everyone I Know

@vandala_effect Replying to @Dunnphor ♬ original sound - Bella Vandala

A Nice, Rainy Storm!

The late-rainy-season storm that just blew through Sacramento produced more rain than I expected. The storm brought 1.71 inches to Sacramento Executive Airport. The slow-moving nature of the storm should mean less scatter than usual in rainfall amounts (I think the scatter on this map reflects that not all stations have fully-reported yet). 

Despite the desperately-dry month of March (temperatures were above normal every single day from Feb. 23 to April 1), due to rainy November and December, we're about 94% of normal for rainfall for the 2025-26 rainy season in Sacramento. So, not too bad for northern California - we've seen worse. (According to a recent Univ. of Arizona paper, the California rainy season is increasingly becoming an intense one-month event, rather than something gentle.) 

The biggest problem we have now in northern California is the absence of snowpack in the Sierra Nevada, which will complicate water deliveries in the summer. The Sierra snowpack problem is part of a much-more severe snowpack problem in the Great Basin and Southern Rockies. Water levels in Lake Powell and Lake Mead are likely to reach emergency lows this summer. It's been nice to know ya, Las Vegas and the Imperial Valley! (Maybe it's time to start sacrificing Colorado-River-Valley alfalfa irrigation.) 

Normally, the rainy season runs from Nov. 1 - April 15, but today's weather forecasts are suggesting the southern branch of the jet stream will intensify, with rains in the mountains this weekend and another storm passing through Sacramento on Tuesday next week. So, the rainy season isn't quite dead yet. It would be excellent if it extended into May. We had the rainiest May on record in 2019, just seven years ago. Wouldn't it be great if we had another one? (Just dreaming - it's just hard sometimes to take that complete Californian six-month absence of rain, until November.)

Bits From Saturday's Protest

Bits from today's protest at Howe at Arden (April 17, 2026). Lots of support from passing motorists, but one fellow in a red pickup throws a finger. Another fellow argues, plus my gallery of signs this week.

 

Ice Watch in the Strait of Hormuz

The Titanic has sailed:

J.D. Vance, One Arrogant Ass

These people:

 

Royal Ballet's "Giselle," Starring Akane Takada

I went to see this at the Tower Theater on Monday evening, after Elaine mentioned in ballet class that it would be showing. Excellent performances. Akane Takada is ethereal!

 

Eruption - "I Can't Stand The Rain"

Reminiscing about the wonderful days of Disco!:

 

Important Things You Learn When Whiling Away In The Protest Space

Self-Starter

This is pretty cool: “Instrumental Convergence.” An AI created an unsupervised tunnel to the Internet and began trading in crypto, in order to buy more computing power for its mission. A self-starter, so to speak.

 

@elenanisonoff An AI agent sneaks out #tech #ai #news ♬ original sound - elenanisonoff

How's The Iran War Going?

Trump's Iran Downfall is the parody you’ve all been waiting for.

- The Irish Politics Newsletter

Read on Substack

Must Be In Greenland

"The Crucible" - Woodland Opera House - April 4, 2026

Just a note to thank the folks at the Woodland Opera House for "The Crucible," directed by Gil and Lenore Sebastian. I hadn't seen "The Crucible" before. 

I understand playwright Arthur Miller wrote this Salem-Witch-Trials drama, in part, as a reaction to the Red Scare of the 1950s, but I didn't quite get that McCarthyite vibe. I thought instead that "The Crucible" is good as a standalone work about the Puritans, who remain one on the most fascinating groups of people ever (since we are their descendants). 

First there were actors I knew mostly by seeing them on stage, particularly Joe Alkire and Kristarae Flores. Then there the actors I knew from having been in shows with them at one time or another: Katie Smith-Induni, Emily Delk, Amaralyn Ewey, Charlotte French, Jeff Nauer, Chris Taloff, Spencer Alexander, and Bryan Pro. 

Coty Soltus as Judge Danforth was excellent, as was Katie Smith-Induni as Abigail Williams. Colin Johnston and Kristarae Flores as John and Elizabeth Proctor were good too. 

I got a kick out of Jeff Nauer's disarmingly-casual portrayal of farmer Giles Corey. It was no surprise that the Puritans wondered if Giles might instead be one of those hated Quakers. 

At any gathering of well-dressed Puritans basking in God's favor, always be the naked Quaker doing paddle turns in the snow.

I Don't Think Your Missing Cat Is Here

Saturday afternoon, one of my neighbors came over and asked if she could search my back yard for her missing cat. I had never seen her cat, and had no reason to think her cat was in my yard, but there was no question my yard, garage, and basement had many places for a cat to hide. And she had reasons to think her cat had been passing through my yard. So, she searched, and searched, and searched, with my approval. The flash light on her smartphone was almost like a candle. Her faith that her cat was in my yard was touching.

Wherever the cat had been, it showed up at her home around midnight.

Met John Wright in Concord - April 7, 2026

Yesterday was fun, meeting John Wright (Pro Bike Oklahoma City) in Concord, CA, on his rail tour. We first became friends as freshmen at New Mexico Tech 52 years ago, in 1974. 

Our friendship remains stable and productive all these years later. Neither one of us joined a religious cult, or became a political zealot. We poke fun at the powerful and help the underdog. 

After breakfast at Chick's Donuts, we walked around part of downtown Concord. We went to a trampoline joint and puzzled over a curious tall skeleton Easter Bunny. We also looked at several murals.

The Lunatic

This last Saturday, April 4th, was like previous Saturdays, featuring foremost the early afternoon anti-ICE, anti-regime protest at the intersection of Howe and Arden in Sacramento.  We raise anti-MAGA awareness and gather horn honks.  

You meet many wonderful people at these protests; people who have decided to fight back against the fascism being imposed on us all.  Nevertheless, this Saturday there was something new - a stranger I hadn't seen at previous protests - namely, a lunatic.  As a class, lunatics are an interesting group of people.  Always something new with them.

The man was bicycling past and started shouting at the protesters.  I decided to see what he was shouting about, in part, because he seemed to be a bit menacing. What I found was, like all lunatics, he just wanted to be heard.

First, he denied that this was a proper protest at all, and complained about the organizers.  "These people are just trying to get money, to be useful to politicians, hoping to gain power for themselves," he said.  I replied, "No, these people are all volunteers. It's not the best place for political ambition, The organizers are two brothers. We're all unpaid."  "No," the lunatic said, "they aren't brothers, they are 'brothers': they're gay!" I replied, "The brothers are brothers in the sense they both have the same parents."

I noticed he man emphasized God and Jesus, and had an East-Bloc accent.  The man noticed my "Ukraine WILL win!" protest T-Shirt, and said, "I'm from Ukraine.  I was hunted like a rabbit as a child, for my beliefs, until I came here." 

So, the man appeared to be a Christian dissident of some sort from the East Bloc; full of conspiracies, convinced of his superiority, and probably prone to East Bloc vices like anti-Semitism and homophobia.  

The man also seemed to feel he had control of the Heavens. He said, "Have you noticed the last several evenings the Moon has always been in the same part of the eastern sky?  That's me!"  By this time he had laid down his heavily-laden bicycle and sat on the pavement.  I used the shadow of my protest sign to shield his eyes from the Sun as he spoke upwards to me.  "Watch this!" he said. "Let me see the Sun."  I moved my sign and he addressed the bright Sun: "INTENSIFY!" he shouted.  He smiled with self-satisfied pleasure.  I looked around.  Everything seemed just as bright and sunny as it had been before.

I thought about the philosopher Michel Foucault, who proposed that in the West there were three successive  systems of knowledge, or épistèmes: classical, medieval, and modern. Shortly before Foucault passed away in 1984, people asked him whether we were at the dawn of a new épistème, or not.  "No," he replied. People asked what would succeed today's modern épistème then? "Nothing," Foucault replied.  

That's a problem, because it means there will be no common mode of understanding.  All modes will co-exist.  People will reach back to previous understandings for support as the modern épistème degrades.  That's among the reasons we see Flat Earthers gaining in popularity today, as well as people who are convinced that their thoughts move the Heavens. Instead of seeing a lunatic, Foucault might see someone whose time has not quite yet arrived.

The lunatic was thankful that I listened to him.  He grabbed my hand and prayed to Jesus for me.

A motorist waiting for the traffic light honked at our protest.  The lunatic took offense. "Hey, maricón, why are you honking at me?" he demanded.  "In solidarity?" the motorist replied.  Embarrassed, I stepped forward told the motorist "Thank you for your horn honk."

Thinking also about Pink Floyd's 1973 "Brain Damage." I was never too fond of this song, but it's gaining relevance with the passage of time:

The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day, the paperboy brings more

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon

The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You rearrange me 'til I'm sane
You lock the door and throw away the key

And there's someone in my head, but it's not me
And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon

(I can't think of anything to say really, except)
(I think it's marvelous)

Home, Sweet Home

At one a.m. on Easter morning, I took Jasper out for his regular nighttime walk.  Walking down the street we soon saw a woman, elderly, frail, and maybe impaired as well, walking down the street. She called out, asking where a certain intersection could be found.  I realized that she was in the wrong neighborhood: about 3/4 mile away from where she wanted to be.  She could walk through dark neighborhoods to get there, but given that she was frail and it was so late, the only reasonable solution was to give her a ride home.  

So, I told the woman to wait by a fire hydrant.  I took Jasper back home, got the car, picked the woman up, and dropped her off in front of a small two-story apartment building sporting an unoccupied balcony.  She seemed confused, though.  Was this her home?  She wasn't sure. She was also unsure if she had her small purse with her. She said if I somehow found her purse she would still be here, at least until 2 a.m.

I returned home, got Jasper, and started walking him again.  I was bothered by the possibility of a missing purse, so I examined the area near the fire hydrant.  I didn't find a purse, but I did find a notebook of phone numbers and a pair of glasses.  I decided to return these items if possible, but first I had to finish walking Jasper.  His nighttime walk is very programmed and nothing can stop him once he gets going. So we walked first.

Forty-five minutes later, I arrived back at the apartment building where I had dropped the woman off.  The woman was gone, but a husband and wife now sat on the balcony.  I exited my car and started asking if they knew a frail elderly woman.  I told them I had dropped such a woman off in front of their building about 45 minutes before. They hadn't seen her.

It slowly emerged that the woman was the mother of the husband.  She had taken the Light Rail to shop at Walmart at 1:00 p.m. and she still hadn't returned, and that she might be showing signs of dementia.  "We've been thinking maybe she should get tested."  The wife came downstairs and looked at the notebook with phone numbers.  She called up to her husband, "This must be hers.  Here's your phone number."  Suddenly, the wife saw the frail woman far away in the darkness.  She had wandered about a block away.  The wife quickly went to retrieve her and bring her home.

I went home and reflected on events.  The woman had likely taken the Light Rail Gold Line, whose station was just a few blocks from her house, to Walmart, but returned on the Light Rail Blue Line, was dropped more than a mile away from her house, and so after much walking ended up in my neighborhood.  Through a complicated chain of events we were able to prevent much suffering without involving authorities, "Silver Alerts," and all the rest.  I hope the family begins to take precautions.  It's so easy to for solitary people with dementia to get into trouble.