Fix 50 Finishing?

If they actually finish this Highway 50 project I will be disoriented. So many things to miss: the blinding lights at night, the inexplicable repetitive construction noise, the surprise traffic jams even at midnight, and trying to relearn every week which lanes are open and which are closed. 

I'm interested if they'll finally open up the seep holes on the underside of highway deck, allowing bats to finally reclaim their favorite homes. Six long homeless years for the critters. And what will happen with Sacramento's homeless humans? They used to gather in large numbers under the highway deck too. A reprise?

Sacramento’s Fix 50 project, a six-year construction effort to rehabilitate a 14-mile stretch of Highway 50, is entering its final phase and is expected to be completed by the end of September, according to Caltrans.

Mass Deportations Crush Job Opportunities For Whites

Mass deportations of undocumented workers kill job opportunities for remaining white workers, due to workplace disruption and lower demand. 

In other words, if you fire all the foreign-born pizza-delivery workers, no pizza-delivery jobs will open up, because fewer people will be ordering pizzas in the first place.

California saw a 3.1% drop in private-sector employment the week immediately after the Trump administration stepped up its immigration raids in the state, according to a new analysis of U.S. Census data. 

UC Merced researchers said the steep drop is second only to the unemployment surge the state experienced during the onset of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, and greater than the immediate decline during the Great Recession in 2007 and 2008.

This appears to be the first analysis of the data from the Census Bureau’s Current Population Survey from the time when federal agents’ focus on the state became clear in early June, when a raid at a garment factory in downtown Los Angeles preceded weeks of sweeps and unrest.

Big Drone

This morning, I was pushing Jasper in his stroller around the neighborhood, thinking antifa thoughts and wondering where I can get green algae, when I heard a noise above. It was a large drone, passing northward, about 200 feet directly overhead. I tried to shield my thoughts from this interloper. “Wow, that’s a large drone,” I thought. “It looks large enough to carry an open tray of kitty litter. If so encumbered, I hope it reaches its destination without incident.” 

A few minutes later, the drone returned, this time heading southward. I hid under the tree canopy and masked my antifa thoughts to the tune of Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina.” Large drones to add to the surveillance. It’s like Ukraine, but kinder and gentler.

Memorial Service For Shirley Gumpy - June 24, 2026

Life Pointe Church in Woodland. It was nice to see Cindy, Missy, and Megan (who flew out from Tennessee).  I don't think I've seen Megan in more than 25 years.  We used to all dance at Sally Forment's Woodland Dance Academy, c. 1993-2005.

Eleven Years Ago

An awesome, awesome gentleman! Giancarlo Esposito, aka Gus Fring.

RIP, Alan Greenspan

Too much irrational exuberance at age 100:

Greenspan’s tenure as Fed chairman — from August 1987 through January 2006 — was just five months shy of the longest Fed chairman’s tenure. That distinction belonged to William McChesney Martin, who served from 1951 until early 1970.

In his 2013 book “The Map and the Territory,’’ Greenspan defended himself against critics who assigned him significant blame for the 2008 financial meltdown. He argued that traditional economic forecasting was no match for the irrational risk-taking that can feed catastrophic price bubbles. 

“Bubbles go up very slowly as euphoria builds,” Greenspan said in a 2013 interview with The Associated Press. “Then fear hits, and it comes down very sharply. When I started to look at that, I was sort of intellectually shocked.”

The MOU

@pearlmania500

After claiming he won 40 times, he just lost the entire thing.

♬ original sound - Pearlmania500

Middle East Jiu-Jitsu

The whiplash regarding America's war with Iran is stunning. It's like watching one of those Arkansas-state-trooper high-speed car chase videos, then discovering the pursued driver is actually a Terminator cyborg, and suddenly the cops are the ones fleeing in a panic at high speed. Like, what happened? 

At first, I was furious that America seemed to be taking orders from Israel about attacking Iran. America and Israel have frequently worked together, but they are separate countries with different interests, and each should NEVER take orders from the other. Israel believes Iran poses an existential threat to it and will go to any length to attack Iran. America and Iran should be natural allies working together against Russia, Israel, and the Arab states (as was the case before the Iranian Revolution in 1979). For Netanyahu to leverage American money, arms, and especially American soldiers' lives against Iran - FOR FREE! - was an amazing, disturbing development. 

But Netanyahu and the Israeli Right misjudged Trump. I suspect Trump decided to attack Iran for completely feral reasons: the Iranian regime was weak after last year's war. Following internal strife last January, the Iranian regime probably looked like it could be brutalized out of existence. Trump wanted a cheap, easy victory for Republicans to take to the American midterm elections in November. 

Netanyahu and his people thought Trump was a true believer in their cause. Trump is a true believer, of course, but only in himself, and certainly not in any Israeli cause. As soon as Iran made the easy victory costly, Trump began looking for ways to discard the Israelis. 

This war is a very-costly mistake for Netanyahu. Iran will emerge from the war strengthened, not weakened, and certainly not destroyed. Israeli elections are coming in October. These days, constant war is the only thing keeping prosecutors from putting Netanyahu in prison. Netanyahu has little time left to readjust. 

The war will be costly for America.  A peace deal comes too late to prevent a massive rise in the cost of gasoline.  For the moment, Trump skates (although other Republicans may not).

In America, the neoconservatives are getting their asses handed to them. It makes me smile. They need to learn the hard truth.  America and Israel are separate countries with different interests, and each should NEVER take orders from the other!:

The defining trait of neoconservative thought is a near-boundless faith in the efficacy of U.S. military power. This faith caused the neocons to recoil in from the Obama administration’s 2015 nuclear deal with Iran. A tougher president, they believed, would have used the threat of American might to make Iran accept much stricter terms. 

...When Trump’s 2025 bombing campaign failed to eliminate Iran’s nuclear threat, they decided a more extensive military campaign would force the country to make concessions. The campaign has come, but the concessions have not. 

...Another mistake the neocons made was to misjudge Trump. The president may have appeared to share their goals, given his frequently expressed contempt for the Obama administration’s handling of the issue. But the reason Trump hated Obama’s nuclear deal is that it was made by Obama, a figure he regards with a pathological mix of envy and racial disgust.

...While the neoconservative impetus to prevent a nuclear Iran is rooted in a hatred and fear of its radical government, Trump has never held an ideological grudge against a foreign power. His geopolitical vision is personal. To the extent that a country’s authoritarian character factors into his assessment, it is generally a plus.

By suppressing mass protests and then outmaneuvering Trump at the negotiating table, the Iranian regime began to elevate itself into the same category as Russia, China, North Korea, and other “strong” dictatorships that he admires. “I never cared about regime change,” he said yesterday at the G7 summit. “We’re dealing with people that I think are very rational people,” Trump said of the Iranian leadership. “They were nice to deal with. They were strong people, smart people.”

If Iran’s rulers are so rational and nice, one wonders why their potential acquisition of a nuclear weapon would so concern the United States. Indeed, Trump floated the notion that seizing Iran’s nuclear material no longer mattered very much. “You could make the case, why even bother?” he mused, adding, “It’s not very valuable stuff.” 

Despite his boasts, Trump has never been a brilliant dealmaker. His specialty is finding ways to strip out short-term value while foisting long-term costs on others, while manipulating public opinion so that he can always find a new round of suckers. Nothing about this skill set suggested an ability or even a willingness to tackle a problem such as Iran’s nuclear ambitions, especially if doing so imposed extended costs. As soon as it became clear that he would not enjoy a quick and cheap victory, Trump’s calculation was always going to be that expensive gasoline is his problem, and a future nuclear-armed Iran is somebody else’s.

TDS

It's an AI song, but it's good!

@free_thinking_ame

Song: American Stress Test

♬ original sound - Free_Thinking_American

RIP, Jon Beaver

So sorry Jon Beaver has passed on!  Such a good community-theater player.  An excellent lawyer, and a liberal par excellence.  I was in only one show with Jon: "Titanic, The Musical" at DMTC in 2006.  He was the best!

"Titanic, The Musical" at Davis Musical Theater Company (DMTC) in 2006. Vulnerable first-class passengers include Benjamin Guggenheim (Rich Kulmann), John B. Thayer (Hal Wright), John Jacob Astor (Jon Beaver), and George Widener (Steve Lemons).

Here are the shows Jon was in at DMTC:   

"Pressure"

I saw "Pressure" at the Tower Theater. Every so often, dramas are carried forward by meteorologists. I'm very fond of this meteorological movie. The monologue by Chief Meteorologist Captain James Stagg (Andrew Scott) about how the storms he's talking about are real; how the wrath of nature is real, is exactly what we need to hear about in these conspiracy-addled days. The movie is a little weak on the actual meteorology, but that's okay. 

More details about the meteorology:

Over the protests of Krick and the American contingent, Stagg told Eisenhower that the outlook hadn’t improved. “Weighing all factors,” Eisenhower later wrote, “I decided that the attack would have to be postponed,” likely to the second window in June if poor weather persisted over the following days. The general recalled the thousands of men already in the Irish Sea and the Channel in preparation for the invasion, hoping to avoid alerting the Germans of the timing of the attack. 

Later on June 4, the forecasters finally caught a break. New data suggested that a cold front would produce an unexpected lull in the severe weather on June 6, with winds around Beaufort Force 4, although the bureaus disagreed on the conditions that would follow in the days after that. As Stagg tells Eisenhower in Pressure, the Nazis will “never see it coming, sir, a gap like this in the storm.” He adds, “The weather won’t be perfect. But it will do.” 

In his memoir, Eisenhower wrote that the uncertain forecast for June 7 onward posed difficulties for the invasion “because of the possibility that we might land the first several waves successfully and then find later buildup impracticable.” Still, he added:

 

The consequences of the delay justified great risk, and I quickly announced the decision to go ahead with the attack on June 6. The time was then 4:15 a.m., June 5. No one present disagreed, and there was a definite brightening of faces as, without a further word, each went off to his respective post of duty to flash out to his command the messages that would set the whole host in motion.

 

I'm Dazzled by the Papier-Mâché Bust of Jasper that Juan Ramos Created!

Juan Ramos and John Hancock were at the Kiwanis Art Fiesta at the Scottish Rite Temple on Saturday.

Juan's picture of Jasper with the papier-mâché bust.

Jasper is causing issues this evening. He kicked off his splint. He licked down his wound, so I put on his Cone of Shame again. I will have to explain all this tomorrow morning to the skeptical vet team. I think he feels better, but he doesn't understand.

Artease Dance Collective's "Echoes of Movement," at the Clara, June 6, 2026

The selections below are from my favorite dance of the evening.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Juno Sloane (@dancehalldyke)

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.