I’m sorry, but this poor excuse for a human has got to be the dumbest lump of protoplasm to ever sit behind the Resolute desk. It’s difficult to be sanguine about the mess he’s getting us into. This particular episode of dumbfuckery, however, while typical of the kind of unabashed bullshit this dork is capable of spewing, is totally wrong, off-the-wall, and completely uninformed.
In fact, according to the Forest History Society‘s website, whose mission is “. . . to preserve and help people use the documents of forest history. The Forest History Society identifies, collects, interprets, and disseminates historical information on the relationship of humans and forests, contributing to informed natural resource decision-making,” Forest Management has been a primary focus of the U.S. Forest Service since its inception.
Also, the U.S. Forest Service‘s own website says “Federal forest management dates back to 1876 when Congress created the office of Special Agent in the U.S. Department of Agriculture to asses the quality and conditions of forests in the Unites States.”
Less informed than Dubya – and ten times as arrogant
Below is a small excerpt from Esquire’s article about the monumental idiocy of this man and his narcissistic gaslighting. You should read the full article—then share it far and wide. Four more years of this crap and we may never recover. We need leaders who are capable of processing actual facts. This jerk is incapable of that . . . and he ensures, with his pettiness, no one else gets to do it either. This would be funny, if it wasn’t so devastating to our ability to deal with the real causes of our problems.
Exhibit Z came to us yesterday in an appearance at the White House, when the world’s most powerful man got going about wildfires. “You don’t have to have any forest fires,” you see, but nobody knew about forest management before he came along and told them, you know, and forest management means “cleaning” the forests, which are dirty, unlike in other countries—”forest nations”—where they do the forest management and they don’t have the wildfires. Not like California, anyway, whose governor he talked to and told about the forest management, which the governor had never heard of about a year ago, and then he mocked the idea, but now he agrees with President Smokey. Also, many tremendous things are happening and a lot of people are looking at it.
In the past couple of days there have been at least two major temblors in the Searles Valley – Ridgecrest area of Southern California, which is about 125 miles north northeast from where I live, as the crow flies. Since the shock waves created by an earthquake don’t need to drive on the highways, that’s about how far away the epicenter is. What we felt this far away was reasonably gentle though; a rolling sensation not unlike being in a boat in gentle swells. However, as anyone who’s lived through a big earthquake will tell you, any movement of the ground gets your attention right quick.
I have lately been going through boxes and files of paperwork and publications from my years of employment or when I was in business with my family or otherwise, finding things I created or encountered, which I’m sharing on my blog. I came across this today and, after doing a search for earthquakes that might have caused someone to share this, I can’t pin down which it might have been. Nevertheless, I find it ironic I would encounter this today, so soon after these major quakes. At least nobody was killed, or no deaths have yet to be reported.
And, as long as I’m here I should point out that people who know are warning that quakes are followed by an increase in cases of Valley Fever. This is no doubt due to the dust that a quake shakes loose and into the air. Here are some photos from the area that were shared by a Facebook page dedicated to dealing with the disease. Check them out for more info.
I believe I wrote this poem in the early nineties. It was, at least obliquely, addressed to a woman I had fallen desperately in love with (this would be the last time in my life I fell that stupidly, at least until we adopted and I became a father.) The love of one’s child—especially the first—is far more powerful and nuanced than any other type of love I’ve ever experienced.
This poem, however, speaks to my desire to see this woman* open up and face some of what I thought were self-destructive fears that were keeping her from enjoying her life. It was complicated, as was she . . . and it just wasn’t to be. I have little doubt the somewhat crazy depth of my desire was just too overwhelming for her. Hey! I was just a kid . . . in my late forties.
There exists in all things A strength and beauty Unappreciated by those of us Who have suffered the constraints of narrow education Yet . . . it exists In repose Silently waiting for the moment of discovery In many of us it is doomed To remain unannounced unapprehended and, yet Undeniably It is there And there are those of us Who by some mad twist of fate Crush the beauty in ourselves Divert the strength And smother the fragile wonder of our lives Beneath pain and isolation Which we call self-protection
* I will not use her name in deference to my wife and children. She is a part of my history, but only relevant today to explain the motivation behind this particular bit of communication.
I was a Wiener Clerk at the Wiener Factory back in the early 70s. “We may be contumacious, but we’re never revocatory.” “Tell us how long you want us to hold the onions.” The owner wrote every bit of graffiti in there . . . and the moderately risque stuff in the toilets out back. I think my favorite dog was the coleslaw and cheese, though a good old fashioned kraut dog still hits the spot when I’ma cravin’.
I worked there throughout my first year of law school, 1973 to 1974. It was a decent job at the time. The owner, whose first name—Gene—is all I remember, was a former English teacher and stockbroker. He was a bright, somewhat tortured guy, but he treated his employees with respect, which is frequently not the case.
We used Gulden’s mustard, which we thinned just a bit with pickle juice, adding a significant bit of extra flavor. I often wonder if anyone actually noticed. I think the hot dogs were Vienna’s natural casing wieners, and we got the knackwurst and one other type of sausage from a small sausage maker in Burbank. Alpine sounds about right. We used fresh egg buns, which we steamed before serving so they were nice and soft. We also sold a shitload of German potato salad. I don’t think we had fries, but I just don’t remember.
Flooky’s
made a damned good hot dog as well, and I was sorely disappointed a
couple of months ago when I was returning to Simi after an appointment
at the W.H. Kaiser Med Center. I was planning on having a Flooky’s hot
dog (or two) only to find out they had gutted the place. I don’t know if
there’s a Flooky’s left in the SFV.
I still crave a good hot dog probably a lot more frequently than is healthy for me, but I was raised on the damn things. I love a good, kosher, natural casing wiener with gulden’s mustard and a hearty sauerkraut on top of that. I also love mustard, relish, and onions, as well as mustard, chili, cheese, and onions. Hell! I’ve been known to slice one lengthwise and eat it between two pieces of rye bread with some mustard. It’s just a mini bologna, after all.
I wore a suit and tie for many years. I’m not super vain, but I do like to present a sharp image when called upon to do so, and one of the most important things is how you dress. Many years ago I read a book by John T. Molloy, called “Dress For Success.” If memory serves, one of the most important items in any man’s wardrobe is his tie. The tie must be silk, it must be of a certain pattern and color (though there are numerous styles considered acceptable), and it should have a well-tied knot with a dimple which, believe it or not, takes a bit of practice to execute well. Below is an example of a well-tied (looks like) four-in-hand knot. Actually, it’s so symmetrical, it looks a bit like a Windsor knot, but I’m pretty sure it would be thicker if it were.
The Perfect Dimple
Another thing I learned from Molloy’s book, again if memory serves (I read it right after it was published, in 1976 – the year I graduated Law School), is that young men wear their collars too tight and old men wear them too loose. Then there are men who can’t admit how old they are and who hang on to images of their self that may enhance their self-esteem, but which make them look a bit ridiculous. In the below case we have such a man. Note how he has no dimple in his tie, but his collar is too small for him, creating a classic, oblivious man’s neck dimple (or neck vagina, depending on how uptight you might be).
The Perfect Neck Vagina
I’m not entirely certain what this says about a man, but I have my ideas. You, of course, are quite free to develop your own opinion of what this says about any man, let alone this particularly egregious example.
I recently shared an old poem I’d written. A short little ditty that rhymed and everything, though it was – as I said – short. Here’s another I wrote about twenty-five years ago, when I was a mere pup in my late forties. I had fallen desperately in love with a woman who, as it turned out, had a few too many problems. It didn’t last, but it didn’t end ugly either. None of my relationships has ever ended ugly. I’ve been able to fall “out” of love, but I’ve never been able to stop loving someone I once loved.
!Warning!
I think my writing style here was heavily influenced by Kahlil Gibran.
I’m not sure I did a very good job but, in the interests of preserving
my old writings, I’m willing to risk being embarrassed.
What wonders have I known since first I met you I have tasted of your lips Yet it is the thoughts they have expressed Which ring in my ears I have suckled at your breasts Not early as a babe Yet it is the aroma of your flesh which haunts me in my reverie And the sound of your sweet sighs which fills my memories
To taste of the flesh is a simple thing Too easily exalted Too frequently abused To taste of the soul is a wondrous thing Too seldom found Too seldom used
It is not just your eyes I see But the depth which lies behind them It is not merely your lips I crave But the ideas which they convey These remain with me during the days And calm my evenings That I may lie With images of you to lull me Softly as I drift to sleep
Your smile floats before me even now Your laugh softly fills my mind And I crave your presence Even as its memory fills me with joy
I have found in you a person worth cherishing A woman whose value I deem boundless And who soul I have already partaken of I ask for little more Than to entrust me desires My hopes and dreams With one As sharing As giving As you
At what point do we switch from nonviolent protest to righteous self-defense? Climate denial is empowering polluters who don’t give a shit how sick we get or how many of us suffer untimely deaths because of their fucking intransigence. When do we rise up in indignation and demand, or force, the changes necessary to halt climate change . . . assuming it isn’t already too late?
On ‘Hottest Day in History of France,’ World Told ‘Do Not Look Away’ as Police Tear-Gas Climate Campaigners in Paris
I found this piece of historical info about the—shall we call it “first half”—of the Shuttle program in one of my collections of “stuff.” Note that it ends with the Challenger disaster, which happened almost a year to the day before I was hired in (initially as a temp) at Rockwell International’s Rocketdyne division, working on the document that would prepare the SSME (Space Shuttle Main Engine) for the return to flight on September 29, 1988. Note also, as engineers are wont to do, the word “Incident” is misspelled at the bottom of the sheet. Color me unsurprised. OV-105 (Orbiter Endeavour) is also not on the list at the very bottom of the page.
I don’t imagine this will be terribly interesting to anyone who isn’t a bit of a human space flight geek like me but, as I have said recently, I need to memorialize some of the things I’ve kept over the years. They may not be of value to anyone but me—hell . . . they may not even be of value to me—but I want to get them scanned or reproduced and put out into the aether, for my sanity and possible future use.
Here’s an award I received when I was working on the Space Shuttle Main Engine (SSME) program back in the day. NB – This was a few years after I hired in and Rocketdyne was then owned by Rockwell International, before it was purchased by Boeing, then United Technologies, then Aerojet (current owner).
It’s entirely possible I awarded this to myself. If only there was a way to be sure.
Actually, when I first hired in (after being a “job shopper”, a temp, for a little over a year), I did take a great class on how the SSME operated . . . still operates as today’s slightly modified RS-25, four of which will power NASA’s Orion spacecraft, providing 2 million pounds of thrust and working with a pair of solid rocket motors to generate a total of 8 million pounds of thrust. Orion—also known as SLS (Space Launch System)—is being built to return humans to deep space destinations, including the Moon and Mars.
The Simi Valley Democratic Club—of which I am a member, as well as the duly elected Corresponding Secretary and Chair of the Social Media Committee—had its 3rd annual Independence Day picnic this past Saturday. It is held in conjunction with our brothers and sisters in the Moorpark Democratic Club and we alternate between their City’s locations and ours. We’re right next to each other IRL.
As Corresponding Secretary, my duties range from publishing (which means writing, editing, and finding—or creating—graphics for) the club’s monthly newsletter, posting to our Facebook page and group, conducting meetings of the Social Media Committee, and a few other ancillary activities.
One of those ancillary activities is taking pictures at events I attend and, in the case of this picnic, putting together one or more useful posts for our FB page/group. Since I had taken a picture of all the elected officials who had addressed us (save for State Senator Henry Stern, who showed up late enough that I had already taken my 15-year-old, very bored, daughter home and, therefore, couldn’t take a photo) I decided to work on my Photoshop selection and layering skills. This is the result, which I posted to our page/group.
With the exception of the aforementioned State Senator (who I ghosted into the shot), these are the officials who joined us for a meal of hot dogs, chips, macaroni salad, and soft drinks/lemonade/iced tea. From left to right, they are:
Systems Savvy 