DeHoarding Myself

For years, I never got around to reading all my magazine subscriptions. I put them in boxes in the basement *for later*.

Well, now is later. I want to be *more nimble* as I get older. I can't *be nimble* with boxes in the basement full of magazines.

So, I'm looking through them, cutting out interesting articles as I see them, and throwing the rest into the recycling bin.

I should be there for a few more months.

Patience

Bella is declining pretty swiftly. Her stamina is gone. These days, we take two short walks a day - one in the daytime and one at night, rather than going on one long nighttime walk. Bella rebelled against using the cart I assembled for longer walks - it's just too unnatural for her. She prefers to sprint on her three legs to reach one of several nearby patches of lawn, and rest there until she has enough energy to sprint home. She worries about wandering too far from home - a first, for her.

For me, the short walks are dull. We watch people and animals walk past, and listen to distant traffic. There is a palm tree growing in the corner of the cemetery near where we rest at night, and I spend my time watching it, since I can hear an animal (a raccoon at home?) rustling among the fronds. One of these nights, I'll actually get to see it.

Patience....

Dread Boomers Strike Again

In general, Democratic get-out-the-vote efforts usually focus on making sure the elderly and infirm get to the polling booth, but this year, due to the dread Boomers favoring Trump, it's better to focus on young mothers, harried shift workers, and college students.

Privacy and the Frontiers of Technology

Google Street View Respects Cow’s Privacy, Blurs Its Face.

Beyonce - Daddy Lessons (Auburn Road Cover)

Three-Percenters

Arsenals of fear:

The study, released before publication to the Trace and the Guardian, estimates that nearly half of the 265 million guns now owned privately belong to just 3 percent of Americans. Though most of the country’s 55 million gun owners possess one to three guns, about 7.7 million owners have eight or more.

Most of the guns added in the last twenty years are also handguns, often procured for self defense, the Trace reported. Smaller guns like revolvers and pistols have boosted the percentage of handguns to 42 percent of the national stock, compared to just 34 percent in 1994.

Gaslighting

What Orwell could never get over when reporting on the Spanish Civil War was the sudden, disorienting communist propaganda flip-flops, whereby fighters for the people became enemies of the people, overnight. Orwell ended up sleeping in a cemetery, for fear of arrest.

Trump's Birther flip-flop is just like Communist flip-flops of yore. These were among the reasons Americans used to hate communists. Hell, a Birther soldier refused to deploy to Afghanistan, got court-martialed, and is in prison now. How would Trump explain the flip-flop to him?

Trump employs gaslighting and other forms of psychological abuse when campaigning among the American electorate. Bitch-slapping is an unusual way to campaign. The question is, does it work?

At least my house is adjacent to a cemetery. I may be sleeping there next year:

The Trump campaign is making a bet that it can barrel through the debates without offering an honest accounting of birtherism. That he and his surrogates can gaslight media elites and passive news consumers about Trump’s role in coopting the birther movement, and turning it into an intimidating source of right-wing grassroots politics.

As grotesque as their effort is, and as nakedly as it reveals the Trump campaign’s disdain for media and the news-consuming public, it is not an entirely new strategic innovation. Don’t-believe-your-lying-eyes revisionism has a lengthy pedigree, and a mixed record, in conservative propaganda. And though it is unlikely to prevail in this instance, we’ve never seen it put to use at such a high level of Republican Party politics. The emergence of birther-truthers within the GOP leadership is the most fitting testament to the way Trump and the Republican Party are now one and the same.

Twisty-Stick Bugs II

Bella's been a good girl, so tonight I drove her over to the Safeway supermarket parking lot, her happy place. Bella found discarded slices of pepperoni there, plus a few other goodies.

The hour leading up to 2 a.m. is always interesting at Safeway, since every drunk within a two mile radius tries beat the clock for purchasing alcohol. Had to dodge a Party Bro urinating in the landscaping.

There's nothing like the sight of a limping dog to bring out concern among people, particularly women. One young, hot, drunk preschool teacher fawned all over Bella, who was only too happy to return her kisses.

"Did you do as I suggested?" a woman suddenly called out from her red vehicle. Oh no, it was the Twisty-Stick Bug Lady again!!!

I admitted I hadn't doused Bella's foot in insecticide, as she recommended at our last meeting. "What do you have to lose?" she said. "Look, look at this," she said as she got out of her vehicle. She was dressed in holiday wear bearing images of cartoon characters. She pointed at the sole of her foot. "See these three points? They might be hard to see - I was down by the river today." I didn't see anything, but I nodded yes. "Ant-roach spray really saved me here!"

"Look, look, do you see the white spot on my shoulder?" I remembered seeing that spot from our previous meeting. She said at that time that she had forced a Twisty-Stick Bug out of her skin there. Tonight, her story changed.

"I still have a Twisty-Stick Bug here in my skin. I could chase it out, but - but, I have my reasons for keeping it. I can't reveal ALL my secrets at once!" I suddenly realized she was getting flirtatious. It was time to go home.

I wonder if she incubates Twisty-Stick Bugs? Something like the plot to the movie Alien?

Upon arriving home, I took Bella out of the car. When I turned around, Bella hopped back into the car. She wanted to go back to Safeway.