I remarked at the Mr. Deity YouTube site: "The Obama-getics are tedious. Stick with the evisceration of the X-tards, please. That's your strong suit.
And DON'T worry about Myth Rmoney. He's toast; in fact, he's inedible, since he's covered in Sand-y..."
...Ergo Fuero ("I blog; therefor I shall have been!") : Critical Epistemology For The Coming Revolution
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
Dawn Patrol
"Aspens," by Christine Gomez.
Aspens are a variety of poplar, a soft-wood, relatively fast-growing, shallow-rooted tree which prefers to grow in altitudes over 6000 feet.
They are the first trees to return to fire-damaged forests and flourish until the evergreens--pine, juniper, etc--are reestablished.
Their long, supple trunks, and their golden leaves in Autumn make them incredibly photogenic.
The (fucking) balloons will be up again today, but Budreaux and I will not be out to challenge them, as he is still limping (though not as badly, today) from a strain in his left hind leg that he incurred YESTERDAY morning trying to impress and then drive off a huge, blue balloon with a blue flame motif which seemed to descend on top of us, as we were returning from our daily stroll along the acequia. He's resting today.
Today, too, the workers arrive to begin wrapping mi poquita "casita y perrero" in a two-inch layer of foam, after which there will be a new layer of stucco applied, which I should not then have to concern myself about for at LEAST 15 years (aka, the rest of my life). This should provide my dwelling with an additional bunch of R-value insulation, of which it probably has no more than what protection a concrete block provides, which is just about nothing. It's an OLD house, built cheaply in the '50s. There appears to be ZERO insulation in the walls. Along with the foot of new fiberglass I pumped into the "attic," this summer, I'm hoping this makes the place a LITTLE warmer when them chilly winds take to blowing in the hard winter months to come...
Have a great week!
Photo: Rochy Mountain Autmn Foliage, Sangre de Cristo Division, by Kent Hansen, Santa Fe.
The (fucking) balloons will be up again today, but Budreaux and I will not be out to challenge them, as he is still limping (though not as badly, today) from a strain in his left hind leg that he incurred YESTERDAY morning trying to impress and then drive off a huge, blue balloon with a blue flame motif which seemed to descend on top of us, as we were returning from our daily stroll along the acequia. He's resting today.
Today, too, the workers arrive to begin wrapping mi poquita "casita y perrero" in a two-inch layer of foam, after which there will be a new layer of stucco applied, which I should not then have to concern myself about for at LEAST 15 years (aka, the rest of my life). This should provide my dwelling with an additional bunch of R-value insulation, of which it probably has no more than what protection a concrete block provides, which is just about nothing. It's an OLD house, built cheaply in the '50s. There appears to be ZERO insulation in the walls. Along with the foot of new fiberglass I pumped into the "attic," this summer, I'm hoping this makes the place a LITTLE warmer when them chilly winds take to blowing in the hard winter months to come...
Have a great week!
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Hot Air
The balloons are back.
Yesterday was supposed to be the first day, so I'm not sure, but I think the weather got in the way of the Fiest-ivities, yesterday morning. At least, there were no balloons aloft when I walked Budreaux, and he's amazingly sensitive to 'em.
This morning there were dozens up, so I guess the mass ascent went off okay. It was semi-cloudy/overcast and a bit breezy, in the pre-dawn, but the sun dispersed off the worst of it...
On good days, two or three (four? five? I lose count) hundred of them will float about for a couple of hours in the early morn. There is something antic about the bright dots of color floating about in the sky like ampoules of various elements and minerals in a vast Da Vinci thermometer over the city and the plains around. The mountains to the east provide predictable currents, called the "Albuquerque Box."
Something there is in canine ontology that doesn't react well to the huge, floating, roaring shapes. Where I live, they are overhead almost every day during the Fiesta. They drive the local dogs crazy. Every year there are dozens of dog-escapes from yards which contain the animals quite well any other time. Not all end well, as you might imagine.
My pal the Gypsy Vet says it's cuz their hearing is sooo much more acute than ours, the noise of the burners is distressing to 'em. But even when they're just drifting by, not only Budreaux, but ALL the local dogs go ape-shit.
There were bags all over the valley today. Low-level breezes down the Rio Grande Valley waft the craft easily along at heights from 100 to 1000 feet. We're in the drift-zone. There's usually a lot of balloon traffic over the house this week.
Budreaux is limping; he strained something in his left hind leg today, I think, challenging one bearing blue flame designs on the envelope, which descended to around 200 feet above us.
Dogs hate the fucking things. I cannot say I don't sympathize.
Yesterday was supposed to be the first day, so I'm not sure, but I think the weather got in the way of the Fiest-ivities, yesterday morning. At least, there were no balloons aloft when I walked Budreaux, and he's amazingly sensitive to 'em.
This morning there were dozens up, so I guess the mass ascent went off okay. It was semi-cloudy/overcast and a bit breezy, in the pre-dawn, but the sun dispersed off the worst of it...
On good days, two or three (four? five? I lose count) hundred of them will float about for a couple of hours in the early morn. There is something antic about the bright dots of color floating about in the sky like ampoules of various elements and minerals in a vast Da Vinci thermometer over the city and the plains around. The mountains to the east provide predictable currents, called the "Albuquerque Box."
Something there is in canine ontology that doesn't react well to the huge, floating, roaring shapes. Where I live, they are overhead almost every day during the Fiesta. They drive the local dogs crazy. Every year there are dozens of dog-escapes from yards which contain the animals quite well any other time. Not all end well, as you might imagine.
My pal the Gypsy Vet says it's cuz their hearing is sooo much more acute than ours, the noise of the burners is distressing to 'em. But even when they're just drifting by, not only Budreaux, but ALL the local dogs go ape-shit.
There were bags all over the valley today. Low-level breezes down the Rio Grande Valley waft the craft easily along at heights from 100 to 1000 feet. We're in the drift-zone. There's usually a lot of balloon traffic over the house this week.
Budreaux is limping; he strained something in his left hind leg today, I think, challenging one bearing blue flame designs on the envelope, which descended to around 200 feet above us.
Dogs hate the fucking things. I cannot say I don't sympathize.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
On Oldie from TDSWJS: Science Is True Weather You Think So Or Not...
I think I've discovered a new Sin:
Adoltery. Defined as "being openly, and avoidably, STOOOOOPIT!"Examples abound. Here's a good one:
Like the guy at the YoiuTube site said:
"Frankly, I'm not buying all this "science" hullabaloo. If something is true, it's just plain true. You should leave it at that. You shouldn't have to go through all these comprehensive tests and reviews to "make sure" and "scientifically evaluate the claims." I mean, if we did THAT, I bet we'd discover TONS of things that we thought were true actually aren't true. I don't want to live in a world where I'm wrong. Who's with me?"
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