captainsblog: (StraightNotNarrow)
Yesterday. Whole morning pretty much tied up in court here. I got out just in time to place a lunch order for the staff in my Rochester office- an early Administrative Professionals Day observance for them, since I wouldn't be able to join them for the official one today. It was raining on and off and dreary the whole afternoon, and I slogged through four appointments in just about three hours before heading out of my way to drop off a printer at the kids' place.  Hers, Eleanor's previous photo printer which we'd had refurbished, had been leaking and streaking for weeks, and rather than just bringing it home to fix and return (we hope), Eleanor volunteered her own photo printer at least for the duration.

Once we got it up the stairs and on the network, I finally found out why this was such a Big Deal: Emily had drawn Cameron's Valentines Day present on her computer, and it had been sitting there, unprintable, for over two months.



Yeah, I'd say that drawing (and that smile) justified the extra miles:)

----

No court today (or the next two days- yay!- next week will make up for that, though:P), and my only outside commitment of the day was my local office's observance of Administrative Professionals Day.  The staff doesn't officially work for me, but they are kind and helpful and don't bring me any office-political bullshit. I was invited to join them, at a fairly high-end local steak place, but I first ran out to Wegmans and got greeting and gift cards for everybody.

Minutes after we got there, my co-workers' real boss stopped at a nearby table. She introduced me; this was our landlord, taking his staff out for the occasion. I'd never met him (or really anybody from management) before, since I've been subletting. After our orders were placed, the waiter came up and whispered something to Melissa:

Our landlord had just comped our entire table.

Now, granted, the timing was great in more ways than one. Not only were we both there for the same occasion, but we had just re-upped (with me now as an official co-tenant) for another three years starting next week. So in terms of keeping a good-performing lease on his books, we meant more to them than a table full of very nice salads. Still, it was quite a kind gesture.

----

That brings us to what tomorrow might bring- and I do expect news.  What it is ranges from hopeful to fearful.

The Supreme Court-ish power of United Methodism is vested in a Judicial Council.  Like the denomination itself, it is made up of voting members from all over the US and from growing foreign jurisdictions, particularly in the Third World, that take a far less progressive view of LGBTQ issues than many corners of the church.

Last year, the bishops of a US-based region of the church elected the first-ever openly LGBTQ pastor to serve in an episcopal role.  Within days, the leaders of a southern-fundie jurisdiction ratted them out and petitioned the Judicial Council to overturn the election because her very existence as an avowed lesbian precluded her from serving in any level of United Methodist clergy, much less as part of the highest body (Methodists ain't got no pope, or Archbishop of Canterbury equivalent).

The Council met yesterday to hear Karen's case. A decision is expected as soon as tomorrow. There;s a progressive bishop and leadership in a neighboring conference of New York, but the one for this region has ranged in his pronouncements from wishy-washy to outright hostile to the step taken by elevating Pastor Karen to the episcopacy.  He sent out an email (yes, I still get them- mainly to track this issue), and he urged restraint in reacting to it:

No one can predict the outcomes of this session of the Judicial Council, but I implore us to trust that God is in the midst of it. While the work of the Judicial Council is significant and has impact upon our common life, I urge us to see this week as simply one part of the whole work that is before us as a denomination. The Commission on a Way Forward, commissioned by the Council of Bishops and authorized by the General Conference, is working diligently to help us find God's way forward for The United Methodist Church, specifically in our fractures around homosexuality.

Just by using the "H" word instead of LGBTQ, he's tipped his hand as to his bias.  The Commission he refers to was, like most other commissions and committees created in organizations, an attempt to kick the can of LGBTQ rights down the road to prevent an up-or-more-likely-down vote on changing the offensive language in Methodist doctrine (dating all the way back to 1972) that bans same-sex marriage and ordination.

He continues:
 
While you may be tempted to allow the decisions made this week to guide your sense of the future, I beg you not to do so. Whatever the Judicial Council decides, it is the work of the Commission on a Way Forward, acted upon by a special session of the General Conference, which will be the most important decision point for these critical matters.

Yeah. Someday. And probably, even if it calls for a change in the language, the full body of clergy and laity, many filled more with bigotry and fear than with the Holy Spirit, will vote down the change and go thank their God that they saved the Church Ladies from those icky homos one more time.

Perhaps coincidentally, in my travels this morning, I heard this song, by legendary Rochester folk artist Connie Deming:

Oh, where would we be, if Rosa had simply given up her seat?

The song starts about a minute in, after some banter and tuning:



No, Mark, I'm done with commissions and task forces and surveys. I'm sick of my friends, and likely a relative somewhere, being pushed to the back of the ecclesiastical bus because of homophobia preserved in biblical amber for almost 2,000 years. I'm hurt when I read shit like this from one of the fundie-side organizations which has come out (heh heh) to beat down (heh heh) progress in the face of Bishop Karen's bravery:


The Wesleyan Covenant Association, a United Methodist evangelical group, will be meeting in Memphis, Tennessee, April 28-29, meaning it could be in session when the Judicial Council decision is announced.

The Rev. Jeffrey Greenway, a leader of the group, said the timing was coincidental. But he said the hearing is definitely on his mind and that of other WCA members. He’s praying for the various parties involved, but said he hopes the Judicial Council invalidates Oliveto’s election.

“She is a bishop of the whole United Methodist Church, while publicly embracing and advocating a lifestyle that is contrary to our polity in terms of licensing, ordination and appointment of clergy,” Greenway said. “For her to remain in her role would make (denominational) unity exponentially more difficult.”

The Rev. Rob Renfroe, president of Good News, another unofficial evangelical group, agreed.

“There would just be many evangelicals who could not live in a church that allows not just individuals, but one of our episcopal leaders, to adopt a lifestyle contrary to the scriptures,” he said.


In other words, to live her life the way God created her, in faithful commitment to a single soulmate, inspiring boys and girls and men and women and none of the aboves that they, too, matter in the sight of their God and there is a place for them, not only in the cheap seats and in the receiving line of the Communion table, but on both sides of the altar when the day comes to be called to marriage or ordination. And if "many evangelicals.... could not live in a church" like that, well, guys, don't let the nave doors hit you on the way out. Because otherwise, I've gone out that door, and will join my wife in it being a one-way exit if you fuck this up.
captainsblog: (Kermit)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 09:42pm on 24/04/2017
Nothing from my workday, though it was okay.

Nor from the end of the day, where we just got home from seeing Boss Baby, which was quite fun and sweeter than the previews would have suggested.

No, tonight I dare YELL just a little bit because

EMILY GOT A NEW JOB!

It's been in the works for a few weeks, and I'm almost as proud to say that I had virtually nothing to do with it. My first clue was walking into a colleague's office in Rochester earlier this month and hearing, "Well, I've known her since she was 8, and she's worked here over the summer and did a great job...." I knew that was Brett giving her a reference- for a job which turned out to be with the Alzheimer's Association in Rochester.  I asked her about it and tried not to be too nosy about the progress in the ensuing weeks, but as of last time we discussed it, they'd told her things were moving along with the application, but that some organizational changes meant they might move a little more slowly.  Until today- when they made her the offer and she accepted it to begin probably mid-May.

We haven't gone into the specifics of responsibilities or pay, but it's bound to be an improvement. My coworker helped get her the current gig right after she graduated from RIT three years ago, and for various reasons it wound up being more stressful and less remunerative than she would have liked. It will also likely get the kids moving a little closer to us when their current lease is up over the summer.

It's a good day and everyone who's encountered the organization has had good things to say about it. Her nana on my side of the family suffered from dementia in her final years, which may give her some extra empathy in dealing with what the situation presents.

I will see her after work tomorrow- another day in Rochester with back-to-back-to-backs after an early appointment here- and will be bringing her Eleanor's good printer while we try to fix its predecessor, which we donated to her sometime last year.  We will also pick up her unneeded DVD copy of Rogue One when I go out there.

The Force does, indeed, appear to be with us:)





captainsblog: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 05:43pm on 22/04/2017
I knew yesterday was going to be a long one.  What began with a single afternoon commitment (an early afternoon real estate closing in Rochester) started gathering additional appointments round it like darts thrown at a board, and when I left yesterday morning I had a total of six scheduled gigs between 10 a.m. and 6 p.m.

Also, when I left yesterday morning, I'd been up since 3 a.m.  You can thank the dog and my brain for that; Ebony needed to go out, and that's about the worst possible time in terms of sleep cycle. Earlier, and it's much easier to beat down the wakeys and get back to sleep; later, and it's easier to just say fuggedabutit and stay up.  But the wheels on the brain turned for a good two-plus hours before I finally surrendered, fed everybody early, and left earlier than I needed to so I'd get an early start.

I may also have sensed a disturbance in the Force.  For 70 miles away at 5 a.m., one of my Rochester co-workers was reading an email which hurt him and impugned me, and he was livid about it, even when I finally caught up with him hours later.  They clearly have my back in the dispute, and it's going to come to a head Monday. I will not be there for it, but there will be further reports one way or the other.

Other than that, though? Not all that bad.  The people I saw were all nice, largely complimentary of how I worked with them and explained things, and all of it was in one place except the closing.  That was the usual hour of frustration for me, as banks continue to expand their piles of crap they expect people to sign in order to get a loan. Also, the figures were wrong, and the client overpaid- by the exact amount of their previous deposit. THAT was because banks also consider their customers to be lying criminals, and they did not credit the deposit even though the contract, the closing communications between buyer and seller, and the realtor had already confirmed it. No, they needed to see a bank statement PROVING the deposit had been deposited.  They're refunding it by early next week. No harm, no foul.

The final appointment started on time and finished right after 6, and after grabbing dinner and gas (at different establishments;), I rolled in right around 8 last night.  Eleanor had also had a tiring day, including plenty of amateur psychotherapy of her own customers, but it was finally the weekend! We could sleep in!

About that....

----

Ebony went outside at an earlier hour, and other than those few minutes I got a full night's uninterrupted sleep before making it until my usual target feeding time of 6 a.m.  The drill for that goes like this: older cat gets fed on kitchen counter, younger gets fed in Ebony's old training crate (otherwise she raids everybody else), the dog's bowl gets filled with kibble and meds and is placed on the floor.  Munching ensues, and Ebony needs to go out again roughly half the time. When everyone's finished, Zoey is released from her captivity, the dog comes down to this end of the house- and these days, we put up a baby gate to keep her AT this end of the house. She'd picked up an annoying trick where she'd bark at the back door, only to turn when the tired doorman/woman appeared and head for the kitchen where her treats are.  No more of that.  Usually, she falls asleep with one or the other of us, the cats annoy to varying but acceptable extents, and we can catch an hour or so of additional zed's.

This morning, soon after the raising of the Wall, I heard a thud down kitchen way.  I stumbled out to the gate and saw and heard nothing further from the other side. Figured it was nothing major and headed back to bed. Ebony, on our side of the gate, would not settle down; pawing back and forth, from room to room to hall, with the occasional bark and whine.  We resisted, told her to settle down, to no avail.  Finally, I took the gate down and found the cause of it all:

The thud (or was it a thunk? It could be important!) was the dog food bucket, which the inattentive waitstaff (me) had left on the kitchen counter instead of returning it to the safety of its cabinet.  Zoey, especially, was practically in orgasm over it. I picked up as much as could be cleanly returned, swept out the rest that I could see or reach, especially under the hutch in the kitchen, that was covered in dust bunnies, and tried to get back to sleep. No luck: Ebony was still pissed despite getting treats from both of us, and the cats were basically fat tubs of goo who, even now 20 minutes before their evening feeding, are showing no interest in being fed again- other than Zoey making a game out of getting the last crumb of kibble from under the hutch.

I also knocked over at least two things in my travels before finally getting out of here later in the morning- but I've mostly recovered from the day and the disaster.  I took the vacuum in for servicing, did a killer workout, and visited my local office for the first time in 48 hours.  Eleanor biked some, bought some things for her bike in thoughts of starting to ride it to and from work, and she's been drawing. Plants, not kibble.
captainsblog: (Default)
I have nothing major on my work schedule this week, but there have been daily commitments I've had and will continue to deal with, plus more than the average amount of aggravations. 

Monday was pre-Tax Day; we filed ours weeks ago, getting a small surprise refund from the state for once, but it's also that wonderful time of year when I have to corral copies of tax returns from newly-filing bankruptcy clients and from certain old ones who have to produce them annually. I spent much of Monday trying to run the last of those down- when I wasn't being run down myself.

There's nasty looking construction on my main route from home to work, so I've been doing the route by a slightly longer, clockwise set of streets.  One of them has always had a dangerous spot: Park Club Lane, which is a commuter-traveled road for most of its northerly trail from Main Street, but which bends to the east just before the edge of our subdivision where a differently-named street begins.  Cars coming from the small stretch beyond the bend have a stop sign, and it is the only one of the three directions that does have one.  A year or so ago, after doubtless many bad assumptions about it being an all-way stop, the one and only stop sign got capped with one of these:



You think that stops people? Of course not. It certainly had no effect on the woman who saw me coming, and not stopping, and decided to plow into the intersection anyway, missing me by no more than twenty feet.  I greeted her with a honk and the Brooklyn dialect of American Sign Language, but only then did I catch that her license plate was KARMA B.

Yeah it is, lady. As you'll find next time you try that and the other guy DOESN'T stop.

----

Tuesday morning was just feisty.  I got into arguments with at least two friends over a seemingly joyous moment at the previous day's Boston Marathon:



It came from a Facebook page called Marathon Investigation, which routinely rats out runners for taking shortcuts, or for going bandit and running without a proper signup and bib, or, here, for blocking the finish line and ruining the finish photos of the people behind them.  My initial reaction was that anybody who runs that far can celebrate their finish any way they want as long as it's not in the competitive stage of the race.  When questioned on who I was to say whether this was a competitive stage or not, I cited the time shown on the clock above the finish, checked where it put this stage relative to other finishers (well into the 4,800th-placers) and concluded that it was okay at that point.  That only got stronger reactions, much about how this is the one race not to be taken trivially.   (At least I didn't say anything as dumb as Adidas did.)

They're right. I've never come within a fifth of this distance and my best 5-mile time would've had me a good hour behind these finishers if I'd even somehow managed to maintain it for a full 26.  And most of my running experience involves dodging drunks in dinosaur costumes on a routine basis.  I've only shot through maybe six chutes in my life (four more if the 20-mile March of Dimes walks in the 70s had them), and I can't remember paying attention to anyone ahead or behind me when I saw the F(inish) word- just exhiliration at having finished.

I stand corrected.  Unfortunately, a few hours later, I had someone else in need of correcting, and it wasn't something I could do.  I took a client to a routine bankruptcy hearing; by all accounts, she had nothing to be concerned about, but her trustee took a gratuituous opportunity to slam her, suggesting that someone in her line of work should've known better about getting into so much debt.  I didn't catch the tears until we were through, and I tried reassuring her about what the guy was probably frustrated about but I wished that hadn't happened, either.

No taxes filed or received.

----

That gets us to today: Eleanor and I switched cars, since she had a doctor's appointment Up The Transit and Ziggy doesn't go that far and back on a full charge.  Since we'd both be leaving early, I did everything I could think of to be ready for the switch in the morning.  But after she left first and I finally backed out, the staccato of rain on the sunroof reminded me of the one thing I'd indeed left in JARVIS's hindquarters: my umbrella.

Fortunately, Karma was less bitchy this time. I was annoyed already since I was only going downtown, in full lawyer clothes, to adjourn something I got (what else?) a last-minute call about yesterday, after the court didn't answer or return several calls I made trying to do it late yesterday afternoon.  But despite the rain coming down in buckets on the 33 inbound (and eventually outbound), I not only found a close-in parking place near court, but the rain let up for the whole 20 minutes there, in, out and back.  That got me home, back into casualer clothes and a hoodie, and then I didn't give a shit about the rain any more.

If I got two more things accomplished all afternoon, it was a lot.  We did confirm that we will have a new tenant joining us when the current two lawyers end their leases at the end of the month (one of whom I've been subletting from), and we took the new lease as an opportunity to request some repairs in the small bathroom we use in our office kitchen.  A gaggle of workers came, saw and apparently stripped up some ratty old tiles they will be replacing- but left the Liquid Nails-ish adhesive on the floor where they'd been.  I was almost trapped in the amber in a position where anthropologists wouldn't appreciate seeing me in 5 million years, so I escaped and put an OUT OF ORDER sign on the thing.

Maybe we'll catch someone in there who hasn't brought me their tax returns yet.
captainsblog: (Twelve)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 03:12pm on 17/04/2017

Higgeldy piggeldy,
Peter Capaldi- he's
Back with a brand-new
Companion named Bill

She's black and she's gay
But it's way more important
She's brilliant and gets more
Than most humans will

About Twelve, she does, anyway.  That's what we found in our first dose of Doctor when it finally arrived on Saturday night.  Despite her not officially being a student at Unnamed University, she's clearly brighter than the firstest of the Firsts- at least in a brain processing sense.  In a "let's go unaccompanied into peril and hope we come out alive and/or get rescued" sense of Not So Bright? Not so much.

I liked the episode.  Lots of throwbacks to prior incarnations and performers, a decent standalone of a story, and lots of potential for good adventures in time and space to follow.

----

Jiggery pokery,
Coal Hill Academy's
Hiding two aliens
Right in plain sight

Figures the Doctor's
The one who transplanted
Them into the heart
Of a Shadowkin fight

When BBCA endlessly pushes a premiere during its return-series premieres (Doctor Who, Orphan Black), I'm mostly annoyed and tend not to want to watch. Yet Class had the promise of another spot of Twelve in it, so although we hadn't DVR'd it, I found it on-demand and we watched it during dinner last night.

Another grade of "well done."  They did a nice job of establishing the premise and the characters, who stood on their own for more than half the episode before Doctor ex Machina came along to save the day.  Still, any remaining signs of Capaldi on the BBC boards are fine with me.  Apparently this series already had its first run on Auntie's home turf, and the decision's been made not to renew it; how closely tied that is to the imminent cast change on the main show, I've yet to hear.  Maybe Netflix or Amazon can boldly go to carry it forward if it does well in the US.

captainsblog: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 12:59pm on 16/04/2017
Why, yes, it IS pretty windy out there today.  Maybe from hell freezing over on account of neither of us having a thing to do with the holiday du jour.

The Buddhist Center had their regularly scheduled chanting events today. Eleanor wound up not going, but I was glad they offered the option.  I maintained my own weekly "service" with friends of the four-paw persuasion, this time back at the mostly-dried-out local state park. (The official Bark Park reopens next weekend.)

Lots of new friends for the grrl to sniff until Jazz and Ursula got there- English setters, a couple of doodles, plenty of pitties and, soon after our friends arrived, a fox went sailing by- and Ursula took off in hot pursuit. We just laughed; she's 11 and not catching that varmint in this lifetime.

After all that excitement, she went down the crick.  Here she is after her swim, doing what she does:




 Ebony didn't follow, but she did drink out of it for the first time I can remember.

We came home, I took in a workout, did a quick Wegmans run (much quieter than the pre-Easter crazy of yesterday, but did encounter a woman trapsing her tiny poodle all around with her- too small to tell if it even had one of those fake "therapy dog" stickers on it).  This afternoon is for paying bills, watching last night's Doctor Who series 10 premiere, laundry- and not much else.
captainsblog: (JesusPogo)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 12:40pm on 16/04/2017
Why, yes, it IS pretty windy out there today.  Maybe from hell freezing over on account of neither of us having a thing to do with the holiday du jour.

The Buddhist Center had their regularly scheduled chanting events today. Eleanor wound up not going, but I was glad they offered the option.  I maintained my own weekly "service" with friends of the four-paw persuasion, this time back at the mostly-dried-out local state park. (The official Bark Park reopens next weekend.)  As I waited for the gang to arrive (and while watching Ebony sniffing every tree trunk in sight), I looked at this tall guy in front of me and realized, Wow, I look pretty impressive on stilts:

Stilts

Lots of new friends for the grrl to sniff until Jazz and Ursula got there- English setters, a couple of doodles, plenty of pitties and, soon after our friends arrived, a fox went sailing by- and Ursula took off in hot pursuit. We just laughed; she's 11 and not catching that varmint in this lifetime.

After all that excitement, she went down the crick.  Here she is after her swim, doing what she does:




 Ebony didn't follow, but she did drink out of it for the first time I can remember.

We came home, I took in a workout, did a quick Wegmans run (much quieter than the pre-Easter crazy of yesterday, but did encounter a woman trapsing her tiny poodle all around with her- too small to tell if it even had one of those fake "therapy dog" stickers on it).  This afternoon is for paying bills, watching last night's Doctor Who series 10 premiere, laundry- and not much else.
captainsblog: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 08:57pm on 15/04/2017

Trying to post my first new entry to Dreamwidth. These will cross-post to the old place for as long as the Evil Empire doesn't ban me. Already they've seemingly seen and been pissed at my post, because I did not get the #LJ18 congratulations link on my profile banner that lots of other people did.

Many of you who hadn't already subscribed/granted access in previous days have done so- including some who have just been lurking, which is great. Oh hai:)  I generally friend anybody back who's not a bot or a Trumpernutter.

We're two days into the four-day extravaganza holiday weekend caused by Zombie Jesus. Yesterday, I worked from 8:30 until just before 3, with plenty of stress to go around since both of my offices were officially closed and I had no support staff to help with anything.  Much of the day involved translating, cutting and pasting from paper copies of bills to file a claim on the last possible day- which I always hate when people do it to me, but in which I had no choice.  At least I got the thing in before 2 p.m. on the last damn day.

I don't remember Good Friday being such a shutdown holiday in the past, but the courts all observed it, at least unofficially, and I took very few calls all day other than those involving the two appointments I'd scheduled.  Today was my Sleep-in Saturday, with an afternoon Wegmans run finding the place busy as hell (fitting for Descent Day) and me otherwise mostly home, sending out copies of filings from recent days and getting my bills and billing records caught up.

Tomorrow's the Big Kahuna of Khristendom. If I'm going to be within 100 feet of any church, it will be Dog Church, with the usual friends at the usual time; then we will catch the Doctor Who S10 premiere that will begin recording in a few minutes tonight.  No hams; no chocolate overdose; I might even go to a Buddhist ceremony if Ursula and Jazz are too Eastery to come play in the morning.

That leaves Monday- back to work, my only day of the week with no commitments, but round Buffalo the Monday after Easter is a uniquely local piece of Polish heritage called Dyngus Day. I first heard of it while living on Long Island but listening to a faroff Buffalo AM station in the 70s; the tradition was much more muted when I got here for law school, and was not all that big a deal for our first decade back. But in recent years, it's become a Thing here, largely outshining Easter itself on the local calendar. Go into a local Wegmans for the past month and you'll find a decent display of candies and bunnies, but the vestibule is much fuller of DD merch:






In a sentence: the girls chase the guys and whip them with pussy willows, and the guys chase them back and shoot water pistols at them. Far more plausible than a crucifixion myth, and a lot more fun.

Prosit!

captainsblog: (Moose Squirrel)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 09:09pm on 13/04/2017
Just a heads-up: Soon it will be The End of This Blog As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)....

No, it won't be the end of me, or of me blogging. There's a Why and a Where to be explained. This will explain the first; suggestions on the second are under advisement.

I began this journal on this site almost exactly 13 years ago, when it was still invite-only. Not long after, it was acquired by a US-based service called Six Apart, and it came at a time when blogs were moving into the worlds of venture capital and major Internet Player Branding.  But the marriage was not good- Six Apart was focused more on their paid service TypePad, and LJ soon wound up in the hands of a Russian company named SUP. We all made moose-and-squirrel jokes and kept on blogging.  Other social media forms and formats came along, and some of us kept on blogging.  Then Russia lost its fucking Soviet mind over things like LGBTQ equality, and a lot of us started getting nervous about blogging on servers located behind a Bigoted Curtain.

Now, though, finally it's gotten personal.  In order to log in and post here as of last week, you had to agree to new Terms of Service.  They were kind enough to post the new terms in English, but with a disclaimer that the Cryllic terms are the controlling ones.

You like to read, maybe? In Soviet Russia, Terms Service YOU!

Much of it is standard TOSsity BSity, except: The User may not...post advertising and/or political solicitation materials...[or] perform any other actions contradictory to the laws of the Russian Federation and/or any other applicable laws, including those applicable in the jurisdiction of User’s residence.

If'n you hadn't heard, the Russian Parliament has been busy in the past few years, and there are now laws on the books which ban any discussion of "sexual deviancy." You know, Adam and Steve- or Uri and Dmitri.  So any advocacy of the very things I've always advocated, or anything suggesting that Владимир Путин - оловянный диктатор с марионеткой в нашем Белом доме и крошечный член, well,....

That Would Be Wrong. And could get me banhammer-and-sickled.

So get ready for a change.  If you follow this on other media, I'll still post public entries that will be linked. At least temporarily, once you see a "last entry" entry here, they will be cross-posted to a long-dormant blogging site using the same code.  Nothing new here, yet, but there may be.

The other leader in the clubhouse is to makesomething  bigger out of this bigotry.  On May 1st, I will be becoming a real tenant of my primary law office, no longer subletting. With that comes signage, and with signs come the need to put websites on them. I've never had one- although I've owned my own domain for years (mainly to keep other Rays with the same name from grabbing it).  Coincidentally, I'm also awaiting word on whether my email address of the past eleven-plus years will be changing, since Time Warner Cable has now morphed into something called Spectrum and probably won't be paying a now-unaffiliated media conglomerate potentially millions a year to name its email service after a coyote-taunting bird.  If that changes, I will almost  certainly change my email address to ray@mydomain.com, start a website at the same domain for both work and personal things, and this journal would become the center of the personal side.

Lots to plan, lots to back up- so just keep in touch through all the usual media channels while we still have them. My personal email will not be changing, and you can always contact me through that.
captainsblog: (Snakes)
posted by [personal profile] captainsblog at 09:00pm on 11/04/2017
I had a semi-localized political post locked and loaded for today. It'll have to wait, thanks to the S-C-H-A-D-E-N-F-R-E-U-D-E of a corporation and a dictator going bad on us during the day.

You've likely heard of the United business.  To save themselves from paying four customers more than $1,000 or so apiece to volunteer to travel on a later flight, alert UA rent-a-cops seized a physician and wrestled him to the ground- and at last check their smartphoned thuggery has cost the airline's parent corporation more than a billion dollars in share value.

They've also been shamed and snarked beyond even my capabilities. Just a few:



We put the hospital in hospitality.




No volunteers? Unseat -> Beat -> Repeat

Even the competition has gotten in on the snark:


Also, plenty of references to Airplane!, Fight Club and Walking Dead. Surely they can't have been serious.

----

Leave it to Cheeeto to take the spotlight off the airline. Or maybe it was Johnny:



At an afternoon presser, designated stooge Sean Spicer tried to defend last week's Tomahawk orgasm on Syria by telling the assembled reporters what a bad guy Assad was. Why, he was worse than Hitler, who NEVER used chemical weapons.

Godwin 1, Cheeto nil. The Internet exploded with ridicule, especially with this gaffe coming during Passover, even more pointedly after neither the Cheeto nor his "some of my relatives are Christ-killers" kids deigned to attend last night's official White House seder, the first time in recent memory a President had passed over it.

Spicer doubled, tripled and quadrupled down before finally apologizing for being insensitive to everyone but his boss's "88" supporters.  Later, I wondered if he would have joined with United's embattled CEO:

"Hitler didn't exterminate the Jews. He reaccommodated them."

Why is tonight different from all other nights? Because before Pesach 2017, people with brains were running our country.

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