The secret to everyone getting along is quite simple: CLOSED DOORS. Everyone has their daily tasks - Wife is working at her usual furious pace, Daughter has class twice a day, Rotaria has online high-school all day. Everyone’s in their space. Around lunchtime we drift into the kitchen, one at a time, two at a time, chat about the day so far.

There is not, as you might expect, a great deal to chat about. But we find something. Rotaria is taking a class in photoshop, and as far as I can tell it’s absolutely useless, so I showed her the three tricks to eliminate an unwanted object from a photo. Daughter had a test in Cosmology, and got an 85. Wife dealt with the never-ending barrage of emails. Around 6:30 everyone drifts into the kitchen, and we have a long dinner and a chat, and maybe the girls watch TV or do a puzzle. Thus no one is sick and tired of anyone else.


And probably not ever. Tuesday bit the wax tadpole, though. Snow, sun, sleet, sun, clouds, snow, wind. Everything felt like we were moving backwards. It’s as if we start each day picking up a book we were reading before sleep, and realize we can’t remember the last five pages. Some days you’re not even sure it’s the right book.










I'm ill-suited to Modern Thought these days, since so much of what I do to while away thours hours consist of mindless website code work. I don't listen to talk radio; what's the point? I don't listen to news radio, because it is determined to find the bleakest takes. Twitter - ah, that's different! A source of never-ending wisdom and perspicacious insight, passed along in a spirit of collegiality and generousity.

Oh look it's the flying pigs delivering that bridge I bought

Anyway. I've been setting aside some notes from the notables, and . . . gosh.

  Jennifer Rubin, in a way, is the intellectual wet market of punditry - not because her ideas are contagious, but because they soak in a puddle of effluent.

We used to have her on the podcast, and she was notable for being an over-revved rattle mouth.

Then there’s this, which gives you all the permission you need to never trust anything the source says again:



Whoa, that’s so on brand for conservatives! Work until you drop, peons! Slave away, as your overlords demand!


Actual quote:

. . . it’s been these heroic Americans, from the farm to the fork, that have made it possible for Americans to have one less worry.  And they are truly inspiring heroes.

And so, on behalf of the President, on behalf of our entire team, and on behalf of a grateful nation, let me just say to all of you that are working in the food industry at every level across the country: Just understand that you are vital.  You are giving a great service to the people of the United States of America.  And we need you to continue, as a part of what we call our critical infrastructure, to show up and do your job and know that we’re going to continue to work tirelessly in working with all of your companies to make sure that that workplace is safe.


If the writer had been covering Churchill in the war years, he would have said “Churchill wants British people to bleed, weep”

Ah, enough of that, let’s see what a random Canadian is on about:


They have SCIENCE!

Thank God they don't Thank God!


Two things. First of all, who’s on the other side? In the case of the US bill, it’s that lechrous scientist Ben, toast of the French intellectual class of the day. On the Canadian bill: it's Robert Borden, who introduced conscription and used troops to break the Winnepeg General Strike of 1919! A man of violence, war, and oppression!

But those were the times and those were the mores, and you’d have to be an idiot to apply contemporary ideas to a hundred years ago to make yourself look virtuous. Nevermind that. Let’s go to the detail:



Female scientist discovering insulin, you might think, except a man was responsible. Note: just because someone is peering through a microscope doesn't mean something it's an unalloyed positive good. What if she's a Lysenko adherent? It all depends.


Some people were not happy with this picture, leading to a typically modern controversy:

On August 18, 2012, the Bank of Canada replaced an image of an Asian woman on the back of the notes with that of a European looking woman in response to the concerns from focus group participants about the stereotyping of Asians as excelling in technology. This led to a further controversy when the redesign was accused of favouring a white person as more neutral, causing an apology from Governor Mark Carney.

So they couldn’t have an Asian women lest it confirm poisonous notions about Asians being . . . smart, and they couldn’t have a white person because, well, you know, so the ultimate correct expression would be a person of an underrepresented ethnic group staring through a microscope to demonstrate Canadian scientific ingenuity, even though the featured discovery wasn’t made by a woman at all.

Back to the blue-checks.



Uh - Federalism? As in, that’s the structure of the nation, the skeleton, the DNA? The states have power and authority that allows them to act with knowledgeable specificity that a remote supra-national entity would not grasp so swiftly?


Who would say something like this with such peculiar confidence?





Speaking of peculiar confidence: she's really tired you guys. I mean, bone-weary.



I mean, it’s not like anyone put a gun to their head.

OH LORDY TWITTER, you people cannot grasp her nuances!



Let's check in on Hollywood:



Rosanne Arquette, ladies and gentlemen: she's just asking questions! Also, JOOOOS


This was from someone I had to mute for incessant Rumplestiltskinism.



One of my favorite public radio journalists. Sigh.


As we're often reminded, Twitter is not real life. Except it kinda sorta maybe is.




It’s 1979. Papers were ugly.

I’m sure it was regarded as clean and modern at the time, but . . . you have the impression that the world’s supply oof news has run out.

The phrase “In northwestern Iran” would seem to be a key part of the story, no? You scan the front page, you think someone shot up an office that was having a birthday celebration for one of the workers.

The editorial page, I guess. Not a hard-hitting assemblage of contemporary opinion journalism.

What, exactly, are the cracks supposed to represent? What does the wall stand for?

SALT would be signed in June, and it was useless. But hey, at least we were talking!

The women’s section. Oh Lord that MELANGE typeface.

The Ann Landers letter starts out “How do you hang on to your job anyway? You are so square it’s pitiful. I refer to your moldy views on marijuana.”

A whole page of religion:

Seems to me people knew where to go to church, if they were so inclined.

Hooray, it’s private property week!

I checked out some of the houses. They are still there, and they cost more.

The appeal of this strip was always a mystery. It’s BC, except in the French Foreign Legion? That it?

“Like fun” was old slang that meant “no.”

Try explaining that one.

Thirsty, the next-door neighbor, was the dominant comic alcoholic of the genre, unless your paper ran Andy Capp.

Well, speak of the devil:

Ha ha Flo’s ignored, except when she’s abused

That'll do, unless you want to go back to the Depression and look at candy ads, and I'm betting you'll want to do exactly that. See you tomorrow.




blog comments powered by Disqus