or as it's called in English, cruelty to a child.
I thought giving a child the name "Páj-uh-mus" (spelled P a j a m a s ) was the worst. Not now.
His last name doesn't matter, it's a perfectly ordinary Smith/Brown/Robinson sort of name. As is Pajamas'.
His given name- the one his mother selected from all possible combinations of the alphabet- is:
Mister.
How much did she hate him to do that!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Tax Day Reflections...
Usually I decide on Tax Day to attribute some government purchase to my own payment. Sometimes it makes me feel better to think that I've bought something specific- half a Marine, a wash job on half oif one face of the Washington Monument, something like that.
This year is a little different. One reason is that, for the first time, I've had to write a used car sized check to cover the difference between withholding and actual taxes. Which is a good thing, if momentarily irritating.
Second, the value of the money has declined by about 40% in two years. Infuriating.
Also, the things I've been focussing on as purchases aren't things I'd have bought myself- a month's pay for a Goldman Sachs thief retained by TARP, or fifteen minutes of Secret Service protection for Mrs. Obama in Spain. InfUUUUUriating.
Then I got to thinking about my lifetime taxes, the aggregate.It's a lot.
You know what it bought?
Not once did I hear the march of an occupying army. Never was I (when at home) more than an hour away from fire fighters or police officers who would protect me, even at the risk of their own lives. And ambulance drivers and doctors who would have treated me, without first questioning whether I could pay. I never saw servants of my government turn me out of my house or take my property without lots of chances to legally protect my rights. Blue lights in the mirror never meant extortion or a beating. If my government turns tyrannical, I can use the same tools for defense against it that I can use to defend myself from private predators. I work in government, and have never been asked to do something wrong. Power companies trust enough in the courts and laws that they will give me electricity on demand and on credit. I can go to a library and get any book ever written for the price of a sandwich, if I can't get it on the government internet in my own house. If I can't work, I might live rough, but I will never starve to death. I've never faced conscription. No warlords. No ethnic cleansing. No streams of refugees. No vanished friends. No midnight knocks on the door for opinions or religion or race, not for me or anyone I knew. No running and hiding when governments change. For most of my life, and maybe still, nuclear weapons were pointed AT MY HOUSE and they never went off.
I spent my taxes on exemption from the ordinary, natural state of mankind.
Deal.
This year is a little different. One reason is that, for the first time, I've had to write a used car sized check to cover the difference between withholding and actual taxes. Which is a good thing, if momentarily irritating.
Second, the value of the money has declined by about 40% in two years. Infuriating.
Also, the things I've been focussing on as purchases aren't things I'd have bought myself- a month's pay for a Goldman Sachs thief retained by TARP, or fifteen minutes of Secret Service protection for Mrs. Obama in Spain. InfUUUUUriating.
Then I got to thinking about my lifetime taxes, the aggregate.It's a lot.
You know what it bought?
Not once did I hear the march of an occupying army. Never was I (when at home) more than an hour away from fire fighters or police officers who would protect me, even at the risk of their own lives. And ambulance drivers and doctors who would have treated me, without first questioning whether I could pay. I never saw servants of my government turn me out of my house or take my property without lots of chances to legally protect my rights. Blue lights in the mirror never meant extortion or a beating. If my government turns tyrannical, I can use the same tools for defense against it that I can use to defend myself from private predators. I work in government, and have never been asked to do something wrong. Power companies trust enough in the courts and laws that they will give me electricity on demand and on credit. I can go to a library and get any book ever written for the price of a sandwich, if I can't get it on the government internet in my own house. If I can't work, I might live rough, but I will never starve to death. I've never faced conscription. No warlords. No ethnic cleansing. No streams of refugees. No vanished friends. No midnight knocks on the door for opinions or religion or race, not for me or anyone I knew. No running and hiding when governments change. For most of my life, and maybe still, nuclear weapons were pointed AT MY HOUSE and they never went off.
I spent my taxes on exemption from the ordinary, natural state of mankind.
Deal.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Speaking of Buses...
Hello, there should be more advice about dealing with depression when you're stupid and worthless, so here is a self help exercise.
Today's assignment is simple. Just go out and get on the bus.
It doesn't matter which bus. Whichever bus comes next. Get on, and just go. You could ride that bus to the very end, thank the driver, and then walk into the woods and just die. Just lay down right there and wait and wait until you were dead. Who is going to miss you?
Really, think about it. If you went out to the middle of nowhere and just sat down in a ditch and cried by yourself until you were dead, who would be the first person to wonder where you'd gone?
Call them up! Maybe they want to get ice cream.
And I have just been informed that today is free cone day at Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream!
Today's assignment is simple. Just go out and get on the bus.
It doesn't matter which bus. Whichever bus comes next. Get on, and just go. You could ride that bus to the very end, thank the driver, and then walk into the woods and just die. Just lay down right there and wait and wait until you were dead. Who is going to miss you?
Really, think about it. If you went out to the middle of nowhere and just sat down in a ditch and cried by yourself until you were dead, who would be the first person to wonder where you'd gone?
Call them up! Maybe they want to get ice cream.
And I have just been informed that today is free cone day at Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream!
Saturday, April 09, 2011
Heathens, Jews and Protestants Burn I Suppose...
Or do they just mean it's for emergencies peculiar to Catholics, like someone comes on the bus with a Big Mac on Friday?
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Special Medical Needs...
Hotgirl: "I can't see."
Staghounds: "Maybe you should go to the eye doctor for glasses."
H.: "I need to go to the Tourette's doctor for my foul language and bad attitude."
S.: "Your attitude is not that bad."
H. "F@ck you."
S.: "I stand corrected."
Staghounds: "Maybe you should go to the eye doctor for glasses."
H.: "I need to go to the Tourette's doctor for my foul language and bad attitude."
S.: "Your attitude is not that bad."
H. "F@ck you."
S.: "I stand corrected."
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
I am the Doctor Andrew Hatch of Hunting...
I've more than once been referred to by fishing friends as the "Doctor Andrew Hatch of hunting".
And, aside from the late start, it's not an inapposite comparison.
The story's source is on the last picture, remember to click on each individual picture to make it a readable size.
And, aside from the late start, it's not an inapposite comparison.
The story's source is on the last picture, remember to click on each individual picture to make it a readable size.
Friday, March 04, 2011
In My Continuing Quest...
to compete with Tam in the "crazy gun nut song department:
Bonus, since we used to live in Ney..., uh, Knoxville:
Bonus, since we used to live in Ney..., uh, Knoxville:
Monday, February 21, 2011
Traditionnn!
How is it that sometimes the best of friends are the ones you see now and then?
I was thinking about that today on the way home from one such meeting. How you can see or talk to people and pick right up. Maybe distance and infrequency enrich intimacy.
I've been fortunate to have three families. The New York one taught me that a family can be about joy and trust and encouragement, love.
My New York sister was one of those relationships, it was like yesterday even if we hadn't spoken for months. I thought, I'll call her tomorrow.
And then I get home.
I was thinking about that today on the way home from one such meeting. How you can see or talk to people and pick right up. Maybe distance and infrequency enrich intimacy.
I've been fortunate to have three families. The New York one taught me that a family can be about joy and trust and encouragement, love.
My New York sister was one of those relationships, it was like yesterday even if we hadn't spoken for months. I thought, I'll call her tomorrow.
And then I get home.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A Good Staff Day with the OFH...
Monofixtural today. It's getting to where I almost feel deprived if having only one hunt!
There were some good bits though. First, the day was not as fast and busy as is usual with this pack. Some running, which we were not in a position to get very close to, but lots of drawing. I do love me some thorough drawing, and of course like those odd scenting illustrations.
It was a warm and fairly clear day. There was a period where to my eye hounds couldn't generally smell much, and they acted like they were on a walk in the park.
But two minutes later in another field, it was a different story. They snapped to and paid attention, you could tell they were smelling things. Why? A little cloudier and cooler, but not much. Maybe that was it, maybe just a different spot. Again, just curious to see the contrast.
Whatever the reason, they gave a good exhibition of hard drawing at one particular covert. Although it was thick and rough, not a single hound stayed out. And again, they went in enthusiastically.
That is a tribute to a huntsman, I believe.
Only seldom do I think much about hunting hounds, I am by temperament and experience a whipper-in. Interesting, considering my absolute lack of game sense. More of my losing insurgency against real life!
Often when hounds draw, you'll see some not bothering to go in, skulking- or just cruising along- outside of covert. Sometimes you'll see them all go in, but it's obvious that they do it sullenly to avoid a worse fate than scratched ears. It's much to my taste to see the WHOLE pack plunge in, do it cheerfully, and pop out the other side with that "Nothing in there! We looked! Take us to another one!" expression.
Anyone can take them there. And there are plenty of hounds who love to draw. Anyone active can drive the rest in. But it takes a bit more to get them all to WANT to go in.
End of day came, drawing back to the meet. And what happened?
Yes, an alert whipper-in saw a "red" fox sneaking away. She holloaed them on. It was well done and distinctive. The field were pleased, according to the later reviews!
Not as pleased as they were about to be. Hounds ran him through the woods, and then he turned back across an open field. When he came up out of the dead ground at the edge, he had a surprise- there was the mounted field, in the same pasture!
You could almost hear him think- "Well, I've never had a horse and rider try to bite me in the bottom, so here goes!"
And there he went, right across the field among the riders! it was pretty spectacular, especially since he was a bright glowing safety orange- almost lemon color!
Here's my picture:
And one by a real photographer:
He crossed the field and into the woods.
Actually hounds were a pretty good distance behind.
But they were burning hot across this field when they got there!
They lost him just a quarter mile along from this picture, in the woods. Up a tree, down a hole, or just really awful scent.
It was a good day for staff, though, at least to my eye. Lots of "right place, right time":
There were some good bits though. First, the day was not as fast and busy as is usual with this pack. Some running, which we were not in a position to get very close to, but lots of drawing. I do love me some thorough drawing, and of course like those odd scenting illustrations.
It was a warm and fairly clear day. There was a period where to my eye hounds couldn't generally smell much, and they acted like they were on a walk in the park.
But two minutes later in another field, it was a different story. They snapped to and paid attention, you could tell they were smelling things. Why? A little cloudier and cooler, but not much. Maybe that was it, maybe just a different spot. Again, just curious to see the contrast.
Whatever the reason, they gave a good exhibition of hard drawing at one particular covert. Although it was thick and rough, not a single hound stayed out. And again, they went in enthusiastically.
That is a tribute to a huntsman, I believe.
Only seldom do I think much about hunting hounds, I am by temperament and experience a whipper-in. Interesting, considering my absolute lack of game sense. More of my losing insurgency against real life!
Often when hounds draw, you'll see some not bothering to go in, skulking- or just cruising along- outside of covert. Sometimes you'll see them all go in, but it's obvious that they do it sullenly to avoid a worse fate than scratched ears. It's much to my taste to see the WHOLE pack plunge in, do it cheerfully, and pop out the other side with that "Nothing in there! We looked! Take us to another one!" expression.
Anyone can take them there. And there are plenty of hounds who love to draw. Anyone active can drive the rest in. But it takes a bit more to get them all to WANT to go in.
End of day came, drawing back to the meet. And what happened?
Yes, an alert whipper-in saw a "red" fox sneaking away. She holloaed them on. It was well done and distinctive. The field were pleased, according to the later reviews!
Not as pleased as they were about to be. Hounds ran him through the woods, and then he turned back across an open field. When he came up out of the dead ground at the edge, he had a surprise- there was the mounted field, in the same pasture!
You could almost hear him think- "Well, I've never had a horse and rider try to bite me in the bottom, so here goes!"
And there he went, right across the field among the riders! it was pretty spectacular, especially since he was a bright glowing safety orange- almost lemon color!
Here's my picture:
And one by a real photographer:
He crossed the field and into the woods.
Actually hounds were a pretty good distance behind.
But they were burning hot across this field when they got there!
They lost him just a quarter mile along from this picture, in the woods. Up a tree, down a hole, or just really awful scent.
It was a good day for staff, though, at least to my eye. Lots of "right place, right time":
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Ms Logan " Was Asking For It..."
No, she wasn't. What happened to her was terrible and everyone should be safe everywhere.
Having said that, I despise the news coverage.
She was in a RIOT, one that she chose to attend. None of the Egyptians that have been beaten, raped, or killed have been worthy of national front page coverage.
Nor have any of the women who were raped the same night right here in the riot free U. S.
Ms. Logan could have had the same experience in many American cities, just walking down the street at two A. M.
And saved the air fare!
Millions of Americans live in a place like an Egyptian riot every day.
As long as they keep voting right, their masters don't mind, it's not news.
Having said that, I despise the news coverage.
She was in a RIOT, one that she chose to attend. None of the Egyptians that have been beaten, raped, or killed have been worthy of national front page coverage.
Nor have any of the women who were raped the same night right here in the riot free U. S.
Ms. Logan could have had the same experience in many American cities, just walking down the street at two A. M.
And saved the air fare!
Millions of Americans live in a place like an Egyptian riot every day.
As long as they keep voting right, their masters don't mind, it's not news.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
The Humpty Dumpty Was The First Journalism Professor...
A few thousand Egyptians use violence to overthrow an elected President. Some Generals then send the elected government home. Our masters in the media , in THE ONLY STORY OF THE WEEK, tell us this is a triumph of democracy.
56% of the most highly informed and educated voters in the oldest republic on the planet make a choice in a highly contested, single issue, free and open election, and they tell us THAT is all about deception, framing, and false consciousness.
I'm sure American journos would say that too, but I suspect that we don't need to know. Look, King Tut!
My favourite quote by a loser: Martine Brunschwig-Graf, MP, said: "Women in Switzerland have only had the vote for 40 years and they aren't engaging in politics yet, even when the issue concerns them."
`I don't know what you mean by "glory,"' Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. `Of course you don't -- till I tell you. I meant "there's a nice knock-down argument for you!"'
`But "glory" doesn't mean "a nice knock-down argument,"' Alice objected.
`When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'
`The question is,' said Alice, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.'
`The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master - - that's all.'
56% of the most highly informed and educated voters in the oldest republic on the planet make a choice in a highly contested, single issue, free and open election, and they tell us THAT is all about deception, framing, and false consciousness.
I'm sure American journos would say that too, but I suspect that we don't need to know. Look, King Tut!
My favourite quote by a loser: Martine Brunschwig-Graf, MP, said: "Women in Switzerland have only had the vote for 40 years and they aren't engaging in politics yet, even when the issue concerns them."
`I don't know what you mean by "glory,"' Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. `Of course you don't -- till I tell you. I meant "there's a nice knock-down argument for you!"'
`But "glory" doesn't mean "a nice knock-down argument,"' Alice objected.
`When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'
`The question is,' said Alice, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.'
`The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master - - that's all.'
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Getting shot at...
Every time a police officer here becomes long term unavailable for court, that department sends us a letter.
Going through the mail today, there were three notices. I told Day Wife, "Smith, Jones, and Robinson are leaving the Big City police department. Well, Robinson is on military leave for deployment. He's going to spent the next year being shot at."
"You mean, shot at somewhere different."
C O L D
Going through the mail today, there were three notices. I told Day Wife, "Smith, Jones, and Robinson are leaving the Big City police department. Well, Robinson is on military leave for deployment. He's going to spent the next year being shot at."
"You mean, shot at somewhere different."
C O L D
Monday, February 07, 2011
Joint Meet...
(Remember, you can click on the pictures to enlarge them.)
So the OFH hosted visitors. I was fortunate to have three days out!
First, the Friday and our hounds. (I can say ours now, I think.) Sloppy and cold, and it looked like rain.
Getting the plan:
Tembo showed off his new coat: 
A.J. suggested that we might watch out for a strike on the part of the pack, demanding warm jackets.
Misty...
Mysterious...
Mystified...
Dashing around to try to get to hounds...
And they did try!
A pretty good bit of running for a while, but things just died out. Grr.
Next day, a mixed pack. And an extra huntsman!
So, off to the first draw. And on the way to it, hounds opened! Into a covert, and out the south side on a coyote.
Meanwhile, on the north side out popped two!
The field swung out, then back- the race was on.
Hounds couldn't hold on to the southbound critter. No problem, up to ours, and away:
He crossed the road east, and I thought he'd turn north and along the river. Wrong agin, south. Then a loop west, across the road, and- a silver singleton this time, out of the same covert! A little slip north and east and then:
No , this is not number 307 of my ongoing "There was just a coyote here, really!" series...
Yes, they are still back there...
But a fair distance. First on the scene was our spare huntsman. Lifting his hat to show where the game went, as one should:
"They are going to have this one! I'll eat him myself if I catch him first!" 
I don't know. Those hounds are pretty far behind.
Again I ventured to wonder if he'd swing north. There was a little flutter that way, but back south. Hey, it worked before! And again, west across the road:
And north again! Well, it worked twice before. Crossing the same field east? You bet:
A little faster this time!
I wonder how much better A. J.'s shot of this 'yote is than mine: 
"Sheesh, what is WITH you people! L8r-"
" I am not EVEN taking my hat off this time."
Hounds were farther behind than before, and Wile E. did not look beat to my eye. Between the soaking ground and his jinking and turning, he was lengthening his lead.
I'm always beating the drum of how scent varies from hound to hound, and here was what I took as an illustration. When hounds came across the field, they were on his track, but spread out like a cloud. And they weren't really running in the classic sense- drifting and swirling around, and fairly quiet. This picture gives an idea:
But then from the back edge of the field we could hear one hound- a fairly high pitched voice. Along she came, dead on the line, head down, and speaking at every stride. To my mind, the scent in that field at that minute was just no big deal to two dozen hounds. But to that one, it was the thing!
She came straight, right through the rest of the pack. They got the message and fell in.
Alas it was not to be. They lost him on his third try in the woods. Unless, as I believe possible, our extra huntsman caught and ate him!
Hmmm...
Naah.
No way he'd have kept it to himself...
Good boys and girls!
A moment for sincere and respectful condolences from one professional to another on the silver coyote's escape:
And then on to the next draw. In the brilliant "Parkinson's Law", Cyril Parkinson scoffingly suggested that if the ordinary trends of bureaucracy he was outlining held true, a day might come when the Royal Navy had more Admirals than ships.
That was intended as a ridiculous and impossible straw man, but it actually has come true.
And now because of stupid Parliament and its jackass laws, the D&S and QSH have more staff than hounds.
I don't think we'll get that way any time soon. But... 
here's one per couple and a half!
That was pretty much end of day. Hounds worked well together as far as I could tell. The visitors and home hunt didn't pick different coyotes and run in opposite directions at least. And a fun hunt party to round off the Saturday!
I stayed in a remote cabin that night, courtesy of a very generous fellow hunter. And had my very first experience like this ever!
I woke up...
(No, not what you think.)
AT THE MEET.
No driving required. Shock.
This was at the N. F. H.
Pretty day, alas:
A lot of scampering! The pictures are pretty lame- shots of the truck roof, grass, sky, random tree branches. We moved out, my pilot believes in getting there!
Did see a pretty self cast by these hounds, coyote came arrow straight into one side of a big jungly covert and turned ninety degrees right handed in he middle of it. They worked it out just fine:
Covered some distance:
Hounds, as these do, worked hard and there was much running. We didn't catch this clever and woods-bound coyote:
But he had a good workout.
One funny incident. The G. L. E. are still in effect. Pictures available on request...
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