Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
It’s become one of those days. I started off optimistic and energetic. Despite the leaked SCOTUS decision regarding Roe v. Wade and the various responses to it, I thought, it hasn’t been finalized. It may have even been floated by Republicans to see gauge reactions. Maybe, right, fingers crossed, etc.
But then I go on to the news. Ohio elected a guy, a Qanon promoting individual who thinks Joe Biden is tearing this country apart. He says, “Our grassroots movement across northwest Ohio intensified with every terrible mistake the Biden administration continued and still continues to make. I am more energized than ever to unite the Republican base.”
What terrible mistakes have been made? That’s not specified. I’m sure he’ll point to oil and gas prices, inflation, ignoring, of course, the global view of what’s going on in that realm with supply lines, Trump’s contributions to the problem, and the war. Perhaps, being a QAnon’er, he’ll point to the ‘COVID-19 Hoax’ or ‘the stolen 2020 election’, ‘illegal mandates’, or other things already proven to the contrary. How they hold on to the lies and disinformation that’s been spread. This man might well end up in the U.S. Congress, alongside Boebert, MTG, Matt Gaetz, Jim Jordan, Ron Johnson, and that ilk.
Then I see headlines about a few more murders and news about Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine. All of it drains and angers me, but also frustrates me. It’s sad to read of people’s behavior and thinking. In many ways, when I think of the net, that’s one of the things that comes to mind: TMI. But then a friend shares information about AI testing bees and their networking processes, and I think, see? Technology is also good.
Yes, science and technology can be wonderful, when used right. Perhaps, that’s what bugs me: we have so many undermining technology and history, twisting their narrative to promote themselves as saviors of freedom and progress. 1984? Oh, yes. Often, the motivation behind these people and their movements turn out to be the ancient problems of racism and greed.
Instead of going back to bed, I’ll deep back into my writing world. Got my coffee. It’s time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Cheers
Sunshine blasted my eyes like a hot arc lamp this morning. 79 degrees F, they say it will be, up from the 62 we saw yesterday. 79 is an ideal temperature for sitting outside with friends, drinking a beer, talking about science, politics, books, and current events. That’s what I’ll be doing this afternoon.
This is Wednesday, Mary 4, 2022. That sunrise came at 6:03 AM today. The heater was on there, because we were still recovering from chilly dampness that made the air feel like we were in an abandoned mansion’s basement. At daylight’s other end, we’ll turn from the sun at 8:13 PM in our valley.
I have “Seven Wonders” by Fleetwood Mac playing in the morning mental music stream. This was directly from a dream. I’d been dreaming one thing, a muddied, dark vision that had me turning, looking for an exit. I thought I’d already turned in every direction but then, feeling trapped, with everythinoug closing in, I turned again.
And there was not just a rainbow, but the rainbow’s end, a blazing prism of light just a dozen feet away. Each band of light was sharply defined, and as twice as wide as body. And I thought in the dream, “Cool, the rainbow’s end.”
Naturally, when I awoke and remembered that, the neurons started playing the 1987 Fleetwood Mac song, keying on the lyrics, “I’ll make a path to the rainbow’s end,” and the chorus goes, “Rainbow’s edge.” That was enough for my cheeky neurons.
Stay positive and test negative. Coronavirus variants, and subvariants, and sub-subvariants are still emerging, but science, medicine, and time are dealing with it. Hope you enjoy some music whilst I enjoy some coffee. Cheers
Sunshine prevails today. Tuesday’s sky can be described as mostly sunny or mostly cloudy. Both seem correct. While sunshine washes over everything in the valley, large clouds brood like waiting bears, shadowing large swaths of land.
Yes, it’s May 3, 2022. Our high is gonna be 64 F, they say, about ten degrees higher than it is at the mo’. The sunrise cometh at 6:01AM. The other end of the daylight session ends at 8:13 PM. Tomorrow, the weather ‘they’ say, we’ll see 79 F.
After a series of dark, messy, and splashy dreams, the neurons summoned a Nine Inch Nails song. Released in 2006, “Every Day Is Exactly the Same”, some of the lyrics go, “Every day is exactly the same.” Which sometimes is how my life feels, outside of writing. Feeding cats and taking care of them, house and yard work, the eternally aggravating question of “What’s for dinner,” dressing and eating, reading news, doing errands, reading books. Yet, in many ways, that’s how it was when working and in the military, too. The world is built on bureaucracies and routines. Sometimes, though, that tedium gets me. It’s funny, but I know this song because one of the QA guys who worked for me when I managed a tech support group introduced it to me. He no longer worked for me by that time, but sent me an email after the song came out, telling me about it, and mentioning, “It reminded me of what you used to say.” I still laugh about that.
Stay positive — yeah, who am I to talk? Test negative, etc. Here we go, music and coffee. Cheers
Another little victory in the DIY repair realm.
In a previous post, I mentioned that my Black & Decker BH3000 string trimmer had died. A plug-in electrical tool, it went without a whimper. No sparks and few complaints. Intermittently, it wouldn’t begin when I held in the trigger but then operated after tapping it against the ground or jiggling it hard. This time, no jiggling, thumping, tapping, whacking, or swearing brought it back to life.
To the net! I put in the results. Naturally, unrelated things with my search were the first pieces of information provided. Going down past them, I found a link that looked promising.
It was. I watched part of the video three times and then went to work. Twenty minutes later, success.
Yes, it’s a small thing. The device is prolly five years old and cost sixty dollars when I bought it. But I really didn’t want to buy a new one, as that would mean getting rid of the old one. And not having to do the wasteful consumer shuffle is the real victory.
Although, it was in a military setting, I thought the messy theme provided the important aspect.
Young again, I was with a bunch of other military in a battlestaff room. Large and horse-shoe shaped, it had multiple phones, display panels, maps, flags, all that sort of thing. Unlike standard battlestaff areas, this one had large windows, too, showing that we were in the middle of the night.
I knew all the military there. We weren’t working, but just hanging around together. It seemed like a large party with elements of a sleepover. I had an impression that was never clarified that we were waiting for something. Plates, food, sleeping bags, and pillows cluttered the place, offending my sense of order.
Knots of conversation were going on. Laughter abounded, and pizza and vegetable trays were set up. Almost all the others were officers. They teased me about being serious. I walked around, eating food, looking for things to do, feeling isolated. Some were gathered around an older style television, large and square, full of tubes. They were watching red and black action and trying to figure out what it was. I joined them and realized they were watching the ‘TNT’ cable network, and then said, “This is a NASCAR race.” Bizarrely, the screen was almost all black; the cars were outlined in bright red.
I went on from that, shaking my head, and then decided to leave to get clothes. I hastened to my place. Getting there just required going down corridors and around corners. Reaching there, I found my wife all dressed up to go out. She said she wanted to go back with me. I said, “Why not?”
When we returned, I did a general introduction of my wife. I sat and she sat on my lap, flirting with me and kissing me. I enjoyed this but then she said she was going back to our place. That was fine. Whatever was going on seemed to be drawing down as about half of the gathered personnel trickled out. Walking around, I discovered phone lines blinking. I asked, “Why isn’t anyone answering any of these phones?”
One of the others replied, “We didn’t want to.”
Annoyed, I began answering phones. Nobody was on usually. Walking around, I discovered that they’d taken the hotlines off their cradles. Back in the decades I was in the military, these phones were red, black, and yellow. All were set off by themselves and were dedicated to specific purposes — one was the red phone which hooked up to headquarters and national command authorities. The black one was for the secondary crash net, for when a major accident was happening, used to pass information to many agencies at once. Beside it was a dark green one, used to connect with the Central Security Center. Another, which was green, was the AUTOVON system, a sort of military long-distance calling network.
All these phones were off their cradles, horrifying me. As I chastised the others, they laughed off my concerns. I also discovered that the UHF & VHF radios were turned off.
Oh, my God, I couldn’t believe it. They’d basically ignored all calls or disabled all communication systems. As I did, I found muddy foot prints all over the floors.
I went about fixing it all. Hard rain began pelting the windows. I looked around and discovered the others were gone, leaving only a mess.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 