...And the grates from your streets.
The Blaze: Thieves Steal 15 Metal Storm Grates in Calif. City
Looters don't care what it is. If it isn't bolted down, they'll take it and try to sell it, because they think they deserve it.
This kind of thing will only get worse in California.
Showing posts with label caliFAILia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label caliFAILia. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Books, Games, and Knives
I've been re-reading Atlas Shrugged, and have been enjoying it much more this time. Now that I know what's going to happen, I can actually enjoy the first third of the book, instead of spend years trudging through part one 20 pages at a time whenever I feel masochistic. I'm enjoying myself so much that I regularly check the Kindle's percentage complete bar and think, "Oh boy! I'm only 21% of the way through!"
Psychonauts is a wonderful game released for PC and original xbox (original xbox games are now playable on the 360 thanks to system updates) that breaks a lot of style, artistic, and gameplay molds for video games. It's a beautifully unique game, that is a joy to play (instead of a race to the finish line), and I've yet to see anything remotely close to it. I played it a few years back, and it had been hanging on my mind for a while, so I popped it back in and tried to keep my smile from hurting my cheeks. I should note that it's exactly the same game every time, there's no open-world aspect or random events, but the characters, the story, and the locales are genuinely engaging and interesting, which is near impossible to say about any other game. If you play one game in your entire life, make it Portal. But if you play two, play Psychonauts.
If you're too lazy to play, or not much of a gamer, or more of a voyeur gamer, there's a guy on youtube who has a 41 video series of him playing the entire freakin' game.
I really want an OTF blade. There's something about it that just screams Free America. Of course, being a knife-o-phile trapped in California for 28 years helps too. I want a butterfly knife too, but that doesn't have as much allure as the OTF. I'll get one as soon as we have, you know, income. The wait will have the added bonus of my wife not stabbing me with it for opening and closing it incessantly. Maybe I should start with the balisong so the accidental strikes on my knuckles will discourage excessive flailing about. Yeah right.
Psychonauts is a wonderful game released for PC and original xbox (original xbox games are now playable on the 360 thanks to system updates) that breaks a lot of style, artistic, and gameplay molds for video games. It's a beautifully unique game, that is a joy to play (instead of a race to the finish line), and I've yet to see anything remotely close to it. I played it a few years back, and it had been hanging on my mind for a while, so I popped it back in and tried to keep my smile from hurting my cheeks. I should note that it's exactly the same game every time, there's no open-world aspect or random events, but the characters, the story, and the locales are genuinely engaging and interesting, which is near impossible to say about any other game. If you play one game in your entire life, make it Portal. But if you play two, play Psychonauts.
If you're too lazy to play, or not much of a gamer, or more of a voyeur gamer, there's a guy on youtube who has a 41 video series of him playing the entire freakin' game.
I really want an OTF blade. There's something about it that just screams Free America. Of course, being a knife-o-phile trapped in California for 28 years helps too. I want a butterfly knife too, but that doesn't have as much allure as the OTF. I'll get one as soon as we have, you know, income. The wait will have the added bonus of my wife not stabbing me with it for opening and closing it incessantly. Maybe I should start with the balisong so the accidental strikes on my knuckles will discourage excessive flailing about. Yeah right.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Well that didn't take long...
I figured it'd be a while before I looked at a news story about California and thought, "Those idiot Californians."
NOPE.
Nuts to sugar coating (and the readership shouts, agape, "You were sugar coating before?!") now that I feel psychologically free of California, I don't even have to pull punches to keep myself from jumping off one of California's beautiful, majestic, and brilliantly preserved cliffs.
High Speed Rail doesn't exist.
It's a fleece, a flim-flam, a fraud, a hoax, a shake-down, and lots of other words from the thesaurus.
It isn't legislation, it isn't badly planned, there aren't a few bad apples, there isn't someone "skimming off the top."
This is a long con. Ever see The Sting?
Everyone is in on it except the public. The hundreds of Sacramento lamprey eels from the highest appointees to the Board of Important Stuff, down to Joe Blow dirt shoveler union member #6724 of the International Brotherhood of Dirt Relocation Specialists.
They set up the con, telling you what it's going to be. How amazing it will look, how it'll grow hair on the bald, cure AIDS, clean your room, and walk your dog. They actually DO work on this part. They spend money and time building an impeccable presentation with 3D models, artists renditions, and pies in the sky, all backed up with reams and reams AND REAMS of paperwork from people who are in on the scam, telling you that you can't live without this, and you'd be an idiot to pass on this opportunity. This is all backed up expert "plants" who step out of the audience and say, "I'm an expert, and everything this man says is completely true!" Followed my murmurs of ascent (murmured by more plants in on the scam).
"Well," thinks you, "Everyone seems to agree with these people. I suppose I must just be stupid for questioning this. I'd better agree too, lest my peers think me thick."
Then everyone clamors for the snake oil. Except, snake oil would have been too kind to the dupes. One big hit of cash isn't enough. They get to slow bleed the mark for years if not decades, because they're not selling a thing, they're selling an idea. And that idea needs multiple installments of money, and constant improvement, and maintenance.
After the vote, the public's part in the scam has ended, and the bloodletting begins.
Committees are formed, and directorships, and organizations, and boards, and teams, and groups, and lots of other words from the thesaurus. And all these groups need office workers, and marketing, and public relations, and lawyers, and office space, and lunches, and computers, and HVAC work, and desks, and conferences, and carp, and anchovies, and orangutans, and breakfast cereals, and all these things are bought through contractors and political contributors who are also in on the scam (though lower on the totem pole).
Then when any of this work is actually done, it suffers delays, and comes in over budget, and racks up contractual penalties, and spawns lawsuits, and usually never gets done. Which means the next firm must come in to do the work, and do the same thing to gather their percentage of the scam winnings.
So it is that the legislator writes an extra sentence into the bill with a wink and a nod, and the lobbyists tell their client contractors how to exploit the sentence with a wink and a nod, and the contractors plan the job to get the additional payout with a wink and a nod, and the dirt relocation specialist moves half a shovel of dirt and signals to his boss that he's taking his 4 hour lunch with a wink and a nod.
All the way down.
Every single one of them.
Playing their parts in The Sting.
Gorging themselves on the scam's winnings.
Circling wagons and promising empty when questions arise.
And eventually, when the host withers and dies, the parasites detach, pick a new target, and with a wink and a nod formulate their next presentation.
The high speed rail does not exist any more than the beachfront timeshare in Arizona you just bought. You haven't used it in the years since you bought it, but you're sure that one day you'll visit.
NOPE.
Nuts to sugar coating (and the readership shouts, agape, "You were sugar coating before?!") now that I feel psychologically free of California, I don't even have to pull punches to keep myself from jumping off one of California's beautiful, majestic, and brilliantly preserved cliffs.
High Speed Rail doesn't exist.
It's a fleece, a flim-flam, a fraud, a hoax, a shake-down, and lots of other words from the thesaurus.
It isn't legislation, it isn't badly planned, there aren't a few bad apples, there isn't someone "skimming off the top."
This is a long con. Ever see The Sting?
Everyone is in on it except the public. The hundreds of Sacramento lamprey eels from the highest appointees to the Board of Important Stuff, down to Joe Blow dirt shoveler union member #6724 of the International Brotherhood of Dirt Relocation Specialists.
They set up the con, telling you what it's going to be. How amazing it will look, how it'll grow hair on the bald, cure AIDS, clean your room, and walk your dog. They actually DO work on this part. They spend money and time building an impeccable presentation with 3D models, artists renditions, and pies in the sky, all backed up with reams and reams AND REAMS of paperwork from people who are in on the scam, telling you that you can't live without this, and you'd be an idiot to pass on this opportunity. This is all backed up expert "plants" who step out of the audience and say, "I'm an expert, and everything this man says is completely true!" Followed my murmurs of ascent (murmured by more plants in on the scam).
"Well," thinks you, "Everyone seems to agree with these people. I suppose I must just be stupid for questioning this. I'd better agree too, lest my peers think me thick."
Then everyone clamors for the snake oil. Except, snake oil would have been too kind to the dupes. One big hit of cash isn't enough. They get to slow bleed the mark for years if not decades, because they're not selling a thing, they're selling an idea. And that idea needs multiple installments of money, and constant improvement, and maintenance.
After the vote, the public's part in the scam has ended, and the bloodletting begins.
Committees are formed, and directorships, and organizations, and boards, and teams, and groups, and lots of other words from the thesaurus. And all these groups need office workers, and marketing, and public relations, and lawyers, and office space, and lunches, and computers, and HVAC work, and desks, and conferences, and carp, and anchovies, and orangutans, and breakfast cereals, and all these things are bought through contractors and political contributors who are also in on the scam (though lower on the totem pole).
Then when any of this work is actually done, it suffers delays, and comes in over budget, and racks up contractual penalties, and spawns lawsuits, and usually never gets done. Which means the next firm must come in to do the work, and do the same thing to gather their percentage of the scam winnings.
So it is that the legislator writes an extra sentence into the bill with a wink and a nod, and the lobbyists tell their client contractors how to exploit the sentence with a wink and a nod, and the contractors plan the job to get the additional payout with a wink and a nod, and the dirt relocation specialist moves half a shovel of dirt and signals to his boss that he's taking his 4 hour lunch with a wink and a nod.
All the way down.
Every single one of them.
Playing their parts in The Sting.
Gorging themselves on the scam's winnings.
Circling wagons and promising empty when questions arise.
And eventually, when the host withers and dies, the parasites detach, pick a new target, and with a wink and a nod formulate their next presentation.
The high speed rail does not exist any more than the beachfront timeshare in Arizona you just bought. You haven't used it in the years since you bought it, but you're sure that one day you'll visit.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
I've escaped to Free America
So long California. It's been fun.
We packed up our stuff, tossed the rabbit in the car, and headed for the border.
It was a great relief crossing the Colorado river out of occupied America and into the unknown. While I don't know what exactly is going to happen in Kentucky, I know well enough what will happen if I stay in California.
Ava did alright on the trip. She barely moved the first day, but started to eat, drink, and hop across the back seat to use the litter box on the second day. By the fourth day, she was laying on the comforter between the driver and passenger seats. She has proven to be a unique bunny who doesn't adhere to the usual rabbit behavioral rules.
The Subaru was excellent on the long trip, running all 2500 miles smoothly with the AC on through the heat and ups and down of the road. The ride and seats were easy on us, and according to the MPG tracker in the car, we bested the EPA's highway estimates.
A special thanks must go to David brand Jalapeño Hot Salsa flavor Sunflower Seeds. Those things beat the hell out of caffeine on the long rides.
We took the southern route across the US, what I called the less-scenic route, in order to avoid complications with our cargo and our trip. I was quite wrong about the route being less scenic. I had expected little more than dirt and desert scrub until we hit Arkansas, but there were green pastures, dense forest, green plains to the horizon, and very few spots as ugly southern California. Certainly, Northern California is exquisitely beautiful, but southern California is a desert. Leveled, and paved over, with trees planted on top of it fed by borrowed water. Only New Mexico presented harsh lands, the rest were lush and green and inviting.
Northern Texas was second only to Kentucky, (thankfully) our destination, which only seems to get more breathtaking with each passing day. It really is beautiful here.
After some recovery time, we went to get our licenses, which required a total of 15 minutes from parking in front of the clerks office (downtown with no meters!), walking in, filling out paperwork, getting our pictures taken, and walking out with our licenses. It would take more than 15 minutes to find a parking spot at a California DMV.
I'm still wrapping my head around the small-town-ed-ness of this place. We're living with my Mother-in-law in a somewhat rural area, only 15 minutes from town, but there still isn't an easy way to "pop in" real quick. Assemble your chores for the day, go into town, and come back. Everything is further apart, and requires more of a commitment. Rarely do the roads exceed 55 mph, and I'm finding myself slowly acclimating to simply slowing down a bit. I haven't much to rush about at the moment, but it's still strange for me.
Being Free America, I expected the roads to be paved with Gadsden flags, and a gun shop on every corner, but I had more gun shops in a 10 mile radius in SoCal than I have in a 30 mile radius here. I understand there are fewer people here, but I didn't expect it to be this sparse. I suppose hunting only requires a few good rifles and shotguns, and doesn't need much ammo, but I expected sport shooting to keep the gun shop count high. It may be that I'm not looking in the right spots. Perhaps I should close google maps and crack a yellow pages (they still exist!). My little brother would love to shoot Puma's new PPSH clone in .22, and that doesn't exactly fit in with the type of guns you'd find at the goo' ol' boys' hunting shop.
I had expected some degree of culture shock coming here, in the form of different stores, different food, different accents, and different attitudes, but I've had trouble identifying any negatives in these differences. The stores are similar or the same, the food available matches what we had in SoCal, the southern accents are light and disappointingly sparse, and the attitudes are the kind of polite I tried to represent in SoCal. I do feel the need to adjust my soft polite tone to a louder polite tone, because people seem to have trouble hearing it or seem confused when they do. I've already caught myself matching some pronunciations, but only in response to the same.
More updatessoon when I feel like it. Everything is just slower here, in a good way. Again, I'm having trouble adjusting.
We packed up our stuff, tossed the rabbit in the car, and headed for the border.
It was a great relief crossing the Colorado river out of occupied America and into the unknown. While I don't know what exactly is going to happen in Kentucky, I know well enough what will happen if I stay in California.
Ava did alright on the trip. She barely moved the first day, but started to eat, drink, and hop across the back seat to use the litter box on the second day. By the fourth day, she was laying on the comforter between the driver and passenger seats. She has proven to be a unique bunny who doesn't adhere to the usual rabbit behavioral rules.
The Subaru was excellent on the long trip, running all 2500 miles smoothly with the AC on through the heat and ups and down of the road. The ride and seats were easy on us, and according to the MPG tracker in the car, we bested the EPA's highway estimates.
A special thanks must go to David brand Jalapeño Hot Salsa flavor Sunflower Seeds. Those things beat the hell out of caffeine on the long rides.
We took the southern route across the US, what I called the less-scenic route, in order to avoid complications with our cargo and our trip. I was quite wrong about the route being less scenic. I had expected little more than dirt and desert scrub until we hit Arkansas, but there were green pastures, dense forest, green plains to the horizon, and very few spots as ugly southern California. Certainly, Northern California is exquisitely beautiful, but southern California is a desert. Leveled, and paved over, with trees planted on top of it fed by borrowed water. Only New Mexico presented harsh lands, the rest were lush and green and inviting.
Northern Texas was second only to Kentucky, (thankfully) our destination, which only seems to get more breathtaking with each passing day. It really is beautiful here.
After some recovery time, we went to get our licenses, which required a total of 15 minutes from parking in front of the clerks office (downtown with no meters!), walking in, filling out paperwork, getting our pictures taken, and walking out with our licenses. It would take more than 15 minutes to find a parking spot at a California DMV.
I'm still wrapping my head around the small-town-ed-ness of this place. We're living with my Mother-in-law in a somewhat rural area, only 15 minutes from town, but there still isn't an easy way to "pop in" real quick. Assemble your chores for the day, go into town, and come back. Everything is further apart, and requires more of a commitment. Rarely do the roads exceed 55 mph, and I'm finding myself slowly acclimating to simply slowing down a bit. I haven't much to rush about at the moment, but it's still strange for me.
Being Free America, I expected the roads to be paved with Gadsden flags, and a gun shop on every corner, but I had more gun shops in a 10 mile radius in SoCal than I have in a 30 mile radius here. I understand there are fewer people here, but I didn't expect it to be this sparse. I suppose hunting only requires a few good rifles and shotguns, and doesn't need much ammo, but I expected sport shooting to keep the gun shop count high. It may be that I'm not looking in the right spots. Perhaps I should close google maps and crack a yellow pages (they still exist!). My little brother would love to shoot Puma's new PPSH clone in .22, and that doesn't exactly fit in with the type of guns you'd find at the goo' ol' boys' hunting shop.
I had expected some degree of culture shock coming here, in the form of different stores, different food, different accents, and different attitudes, but I've had trouble identifying any negatives in these differences. The stores are similar or the same, the food available matches what we had in SoCal, the southern accents are light and disappointingly sparse, and the attitudes are the kind of polite I tried to represent in SoCal. I do feel the need to adjust my soft polite tone to a louder polite tone, because people seem to have trouble hearing it or seem confused when they do. I've already caught myself matching some pronunciations, but only in response to the same.
More updates
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
California steals from 9/11 victims
This is impossible.
This is unfathomable.
This just can't be true.
Who am I kidding?
This is expected.
This is unfathomable.
This just can't be true.
Who am I kidding?
This is expected.
Friday, May 25, 2012
California Screamin'
I'm having difficulty starting this post.
It's not that I lack complaints about California, I have plenty of those, it's just that I'm... exhausted.
I can't muster the ire to castigate the state on the mathematical certainty of its financial (and social) insolvency. I can't squeeze another drop of passion from the turnip that is my love for this state to pummel the high speed train to nowhere. I can't find a single synapse willing to explain how the variety of leeches up and down the food chain drain everything that was great from this state. Worst of all, I can't even bring myself to contemplate how bad the fall will be.
They won. They wore me down. I just don't care anymore. California is theirs. They can have it with all its dysfunction.
I've put in notice at my good-paying job with advancement opportunities, we've paid out of our lease, and we've shipped out the second car. We're moving to Kentucky.
We're not the first to leave, nor will we be the last.
We've been talking about moving for some time, but had no commitment to any state in particular. Kentucky was under consideration because we have some family there, but to be honest, other states were higher in preference. Last Christmas we visited our family in Kentucky, as we have before, but when we landed in California upon our return I got an odd feeling. I thought about it as we disembarked and finally put my finger on it as we rode the escalator down to the baggage claim. I turned to my wife and said, "I think we're moving to Kentucky." She nodded knowingly and said, "I think so too." And that was that. We left our hearts in Kentucky.
Given this revelation, I immediately checked the gun laws in Kentucky, and found them quite to my liking. Many states that would come to mind when discussing freedom have quirky laws about certain things. Kentucky doesn't have any that I have found.
I want to shoot steel targets in my backyard with my suppressed AR. I want use my Microtech UTX-85 to clean my fingernails. I want to own land that costs hundreds of dollars in property taxes, not thousands. I want to be able to defend my family without getting a signed Notice of Intent to Murder form from my attacker. I want strangers to return the greeting offered in passing. I want to drive to work in under an hour. I want to be able to hunt without researching conflicting ordinances and property lines for 6 months. I want to run a business without fear of the state changing my business classification and demanding back taxes while putting a lien on my business and preemptively draining my bank account (and charging me $200 for the privilege).
I don't want to live in fear that some bureaucrat is going to knock on my door with a piece of paper that says an endangered beetle lives on my land, or I use my wood-burning fireplace too much, or someone thinks I'm abusing my kid, or the tool shed I built needs to be inspected, or my birdbath doesn't have a circulation pump and filter, or my sprinklers ran on Thursday instead of Wednesday, or my garden is too large, or my grass isn't green enough, or my dog looks like a "pitbull mix," or my cat has testicles, or my cigar smoke wafted too far, or my kid's lemonade stand doesn't have a permit, or the political sign on my lawn is too large, or the tree across the sidewalk needs to be trimmed, or I can't have a chicken coop, or my pool doesn't have a fence, or my bicycle doesn't have a license, or I can't have people over to my house to discuss religion or politics, or my car is parked on my property in an unapproved fashion. I could keep going, but why bother?
I want to be free. Or at least, more free.
This move is a big shake-up, and I'm going to take advantage by making some other changes. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do next, but it'll be different. I feel like working with my hands, or for myself, or in a different industry, or all of the above. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know we'll be fine so long as we continue to trust the guidance in our hearts.
Blogging will become more regular (even if I have nothing to blag aboot) as he California job expires. It became uninteresting and unchallenging, and it ruined me for much else by the time I got home. I wasn't kidding about the upward mobility though, by their standards I was a golden boy. They hate to see me leave.
Everyone we've told has been surprisingly supportive. Hints in their speech make me suspect many have heard a similar call but declined to answer.
The stress of this completely out-of-character move may have contributed to the California burnout at the beginning of this post. All my specific concerns have been quelled with trust in guidance, but some deeper part of my brain can't help but worry. It's stressing me out and I can't address it. We move in twenty-something days, and I wish the waiting was over.
I've been playing around with new ideas and practicing the skills I enjoy. I whetted my appetite for fabrication by spending some time at a machine shop working on a project I've enjoyed planning. It's incomplete, but I'm cutting metal and learning fast. Once I get the prototype finalized, I'll toss it up on kickstarter. I think people will want one... or two.
I'm trying to be more productive with the things I like doing. Writing is one of them, so if I'm sticking to my plan, this blog should start getting busy again. Feel free to hold me to it.
I suppose that's it for now. It's terribly late for the morning I have, but I don't care because I finished this post just like I told myself I was going to.
This is the start of something great. Glad you're along for the ride.
It's not that I lack complaints about California, I have plenty of those, it's just that I'm... exhausted.
I can't muster the ire to castigate the state on the mathematical certainty of its financial (and social) insolvency. I can't squeeze another drop of passion from the turnip that is my love for this state to pummel the high speed train to nowhere. I can't find a single synapse willing to explain how the variety of leeches up and down the food chain drain everything that was great from this state. Worst of all, I can't even bring myself to contemplate how bad the fall will be.
They won. They wore me down. I just don't care anymore. California is theirs. They can have it with all its dysfunction.
I've put in notice at my good-paying job with advancement opportunities, we've paid out of our lease, and we've shipped out the second car. We're moving to Kentucky.
We're not the first to leave, nor will we be the last.
We've been talking about moving for some time, but had no commitment to any state in particular. Kentucky was under consideration because we have some family there, but to be honest, other states were higher in preference. Last Christmas we visited our family in Kentucky, as we have before, but when we landed in California upon our return I got an odd feeling. I thought about it as we disembarked and finally put my finger on it as we rode the escalator down to the baggage claim. I turned to my wife and said, "I think we're moving to Kentucky." She nodded knowingly and said, "I think so too." And that was that. We left our hearts in Kentucky.
Given this revelation, I immediately checked the gun laws in Kentucky, and found them quite to my liking. Many states that would come to mind when discussing freedom have quirky laws about certain things. Kentucky doesn't have any that I have found.
I want to shoot steel targets in my backyard with my suppressed AR. I want use my Microtech UTX-85 to clean my fingernails. I want to own land that costs hundreds of dollars in property taxes, not thousands. I want to be able to defend my family without getting a signed Notice of Intent to Murder form from my attacker. I want strangers to return the greeting offered in passing. I want to drive to work in under an hour. I want to be able to hunt without researching conflicting ordinances and property lines for 6 months. I want to run a business without fear of the state changing my business classification and demanding back taxes while putting a lien on my business and preemptively draining my bank account (and charging me $200 for the privilege).
I don't want to live in fear that some bureaucrat is going to knock on my door with a piece of paper that says an endangered beetle lives on my land, or I use my wood-burning fireplace too much, or someone thinks I'm abusing my kid, or the tool shed I built needs to be inspected, or my birdbath doesn't have a circulation pump and filter, or my sprinklers ran on Thursday instead of Wednesday, or my garden is too large, or my grass isn't green enough, or my dog looks like a "pitbull mix," or my cat has testicles, or my cigar smoke wafted too far, or my kid's lemonade stand doesn't have a permit, or the political sign on my lawn is too large, or the tree across the sidewalk needs to be trimmed, or I can't have a chicken coop, or my pool doesn't have a fence, or my bicycle doesn't have a license, or I can't have people over to my house to discuss religion or politics, or my car is parked on my property in an unapproved fashion. I could keep going, but why bother?
I want to be free. Or at least, more free.
This move is a big shake-up, and I'm going to take advantage by making some other changes. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do next, but it'll be different. I feel like working with my hands, or for myself, or in a different industry, or all of the above. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know we'll be fine so long as we continue to trust the guidance in our hearts.
Blogging will become more regular (even if I have nothing to blag aboot) as he California job expires. It became uninteresting and unchallenging, and it ruined me for much else by the time I got home. I wasn't kidding about the upward mobility though, by their standards I was a golden boy. They hate to see me leave.
Everyone we've told has been surprisingly supportive. Hints in their speech make me suspect many have heard a similar call but declined to answer.
The stress of this completely out-of-character move may have contributed to the California burnout at the beginning of this post. All my specific concerns have been quelled with trust in guidance, but some deeper part of my brain can't help but worry. It's stressing me out and I can't address it. We move in twenty-something days, and I wish the waiting was over.
I've been playing around with new ideas and practicing the skills I enjoy. I whetted my appetite for fabrication by spending some time at a machine shop working on a project I've enjoyed planning. It's incomplete, but I'm cutting metal and learning fast. Once I get the prototype finalized, I'll toss it up on kickstarter. I think people will want one... or two.
I'm trying to be more productive with the things I like doing. Writing is one of them, so if I'm sticking to my plan, this blog should start getting busy again. Feel free to hold me to it.
I suppose that's it for now. It's terribly late for the morning I have, but I don't care because I finished this post just like I told myself I was going to.
This is the start of something great. Glad you're along for the ride.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Holy fuckin' shit!
That idiotic high speed rail approved by a majority of the mouth breathers voting citizens with whom I share internment a state, has exceeded its cost projections.
This is far from surprising, as anyone with a memory longer than a goldfish could tell you that every proposal is under estimated so severely you wonder if anyone in Sacramento owns a calculator.
Water is wet, the sun rises in the East, and any cost estimate that comes out of Sacramento must be multiplied by 5 to be repeated with a straight face.
But this is not the development worthy of the painstakingly selected choice of words which comprise the title for this post; the amazing development is that they stopped.
That's right. They reassessed, loudly announced the discovery they knew from the project's voter approval, and actually stopped what they were doing so they could review their ability to continue funding the project!
This is a huge step forward for California (and a revealing view behind the curtain of the fiscal problems California faces), because it used to be that when a project ran belligerently over budget, there was this song and dance about how they need to reign in spending, and reduce overhead, and reevaluate the project, and absolutely nothing official interrupted anything about the project. It just kept chugging along as if the politicians' words carried as much weight against the project as they did outside the political echo chamber. Then, years later, the project would be reevaluated, "discovered" to be horrendously over budget, and the song and dance would start up again.
But they actually stopped this one.
This is a huge step forward for California!
Well, "huge step forward" might be a bit much... Lets just say California ceased its self mutilation for a moment.
I take what I can get. Who wants cake?
This is far from surprising, as anyone with a memory longer than a goldfish could tell you that every proposal is under estimated so severely you wonder if anyone in Sacramento owns a calculator.
Water is wet, the sun rises in the East, and any cost estimate that comes out of Sacramento must be multiplied by 5 to be repeated with a straight face.
But this is not the development worthy of the painstakingly selected choice of words which comprise the title for this post; the amazing development is that they stopped.
That's right. They reassessed, loudly announced the discovery they knew from the project's voter approval, and actually stopped what they were doing so they could review their ability to continue funding the project!
This is a huge step forward for California (and a revealing view behind the curtain of the fiscal problems California faces), because it used to be that when a project ran belligerently over budget, there was this song and dance about how they need to reign in spending, and reduce overhead, and reevaluate the project, and absolutely nothing official interrupted anything about the project. It just kept chugging along as if the politicians' words carried as much weight against the project as they did outside the political echo chamber. Then, years later, the project would be reevaluated, "discovered" to be horrendously over budget, and the song and dance would start up again.
But they actually stopped this one.
This is a huge step forward for California!
Well, "huge step forward" might be a bit much... Lets just say California ceased its self mutilation for a moment.
I take what I can get. Who wants cake?
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Ronnie Barrett spits on California's gun laws again
First he tells the LAPD that he won't repair the guns they bought from him because they were using them as political pieces to advance the cause of gun control.
Then he developed the .416 Barrett, which just happened to circumvent California's .50 caliber ban.
And now a bullet button magazine release...
Wonder why he developed this...?
Then he developed the .416 Barrett, which just happened to circumvent California's .50 caliber ban.
And now a bullet button magazine release...
Wonder why he developed this...?
Monday, January 03, 2011
Fuck you Arnold. This is a whole new low. You disgust me.
I followed this case pretty closely, and was unsatisfied with what I thought was the end result of the case.
Turns out the murderer's daddy is best buds with the Governator, so the political girly man's last act was to commute the sentence of the murderer* (*plead guilty to voluntary manslaughter). Which, as far as I'm concerned, makes him an accomplice the same way harboring a criminal on the lam would.
Because Esteban Nuñez didn't technically kill anyone (those he personally wounded survived) his family argued that he should only get 7 to 11 years for his part in the murder, despite the fact that the wounds he inflicted on two victims could have easily resulted in death. The judge turned down this request. The Santos family agreed to a plea bargain at 16 years, and said publicly that they were tempted to turn it down and let the case progress normally to what would very likely be a life sentence, but didn't want to have to deal with all the mandatory appeals California has for harsh sentences. So the Santos family took the plea deal to get some justice now rather than live in limbo for for a decade.
Then the Chicken-shit-inator commutes this short sentence to 7 years! Damn, You-disgust-me-inator, why not just commute it entirely! You know he's not going to serve 7 whole years. I suppose you felt like you had to leave a tiny veil of coverage on this naked show of political favoritism. Frankly, I find the veil more offensive than if you had just commuted it entirely. At least then you could say you don't think he deserved it, and should get off with time served. THAT would at least be a position. You only went to seven years because you thought people would be OK with it if he served some time for a guilty plea to voluntary manslaughter. This is a truly disgusting display.
But it gets worse, because our legal system allows the Santos family absolutely no recourse in the matter.
What an outrageous slap in the face to the criminal justice system, and a shameless show of political might over moral right.
Go to hell, Arnold.
Turns out the murderer's daddy is best buds with the Governator, so the political girly man's last act was to commute the sentence of the murderer* (*plead guilty to voluntary manslaughter). Which, as far as I'm concerned, makes him an accomplice the same way harboring a criminal on the lam would.
Because Esteban Nuñez didn't technically kill anyone (those he personally wounded survived) his family argued that he should only get 7 to 11 years for his part in the murder, despite the fact that the wounds he inflicted on two victims could have easily resulted in death. The judge turned down this request. The Santos family agreed to a plea bargain at 16 years, and said publicly that they were tempted to turn it down and let the case progress normally to what would very likely be a life sentence, but didn't want to have to deal with all the mandatory appeals California has for harsh sentences. So the Santos family took the plea deal to get some justice now rather than live in limbo for for a decade.
Then the Chicken-shit-inator commutes this short sentence to 7 years! Damn, You-disgust-me-inator, why not just commute it entirely! You know he's not going to serve 7 whole years. I suppose you felt like you had to leave a tiny veil of coverage on this naked show of political favoritism. Frankly, I find the veil more offensive than if you had just commuted it entirely. At least then you could say you don't think he deserved it, and should get off with time served. THAT would at least be a position. You only went to seven years because you thought people would be OK with it if he served some time for a guilty plea to voluntary manslaughter. This is a truly disgusting display.
But it gets worse, because our legal system allows the Santos family absolutely no recourse in the matter.
What an outrageous slap in the face to the criminal justice system, and a shameless show of political might over moral right.
Go to hell, Arnold.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
In soviet California, police arrest victim!
In New Mexico there was an attempted robbery that was thwarted by an 11 year old girl who feared for her life, and retrieved a training rifle that she had just learned to use.
Fortunately, no one was hurt, especially since she was out manned and out gunned, but the mere presence of the gun prevented the crime.
Had these events occurred 500 miles west, in California, the mother would have been arrested, and charged with child endangerment for failing to lock up her gun.
Children who are trained, and aware of the consequences and dangers of shooting, should have access to firearms once they're old enough to be home alone.
Fortunately, no one was hurt, especially since she was out manned and out gunned, but the mere presence of the gun prevented the crime.
Had these events occurred 500 miles west, in California, the mother would have been arrested, and charged with child endangerment for failing to lock up her gun.
Children who are trained, and aware of the consequences and dangers of shooting, should have access to firearms once they're old enough to be home alone.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Conclusions I've drawn from my short lesson in unemployment
1. I can't NOT work.
It drove me insane. I was barely unemployed three months, and I was bouncing off the walls. I was all flavors of depressed, filled with doubt, questioned my faith, and generally a basket case. I couldn't do this for two years. Literally. Had I gone a bit longer, there's no doubt in my mind that I would have had to take a part time job while I continued my job search. And honestly? Subway was the first place that came to mind.
2. Free time when you're unemployed and free time when you're employed are NOT THE SAME THING.
DO NOT THINK OF IT AS A VACATION! I thought I'd enjoy the downtime while I searched for a job. Instead, it was pretty evenly split between despairing, temporarily numbing my mind with video games, silently freaking out, discovering new ways to be secretly depressed, or pacing back and forth in the apartment.
3. My heart goes out to the Boomers looking for jobs right now.
Since writing that post, it has become increasingly obvious that the Booomers are getting dropped from positions, and put in the unfavorable position of competing against fresh, young college grads with mountains of debt who will jump at any job you throw at them that doesn't involve a paper hat. True, many Boomers in the tech industry failed to keep up their knowledge, or make themselves indispensable, or realize that there was an army of young'uns gunning for their job, but I still feel for them. I happen to know one was their second favorite for the job I was offered. Being familiar with the type, I knew that if he was my strongest competition, I was very likely to get the job. Which made me both sad and happy.
4. Keep things in perspective.
As hard as things got, I always felt better when I prayed for John and his wife. No matter how bad things get, you've still got to count your blessings.
5. Something ain't kosher in the unemployment line.
One of the things I noticed while on the hunt was the volume of jobs available, and the lack of applicants. Note I didn't say qualified applicants. If I didn't have enough qualifications for a job, I'd be pounding on doors, promising the world for minimum wage if they'd only give me a chance. Because that's exactly what I did to get my foot in the door of this field. But whenever I interviewed by phone, I found I was one of around 20 applicants. Either they mentioned they didn't have many interviews, or I was interview X out of Y, or they just mentioned that I was one of a few. Of course, that is not to say 1000 didn't submit their resume, and get a "thank you, but" e-mail. But I happen to think the positions for which I was applying were not that specialized, save a couple. Something just didn't add up. I've been told thousands apply to any job that becomes available, but I'm beginning to think they're only interested in applying. Smells like sandbagging.
6. The Ca EDD helps you *wink wink* *nudge nudge* stay unemployed.
The Employment Development Department randomly selected me for a review, so I went in to a local office for an interview. Not understanding most of the form, I left it blank so I could ask questions about filling it in rather than sign my name to something I didn't understand. When I got there, an EDD employee explained to me that Sacramento handles their own tracking of how unemployment is working, and how well EDD is doing its job of keeping leeches out of the system. (Obviously, the EDD employee worded it differently, but that's what I took from it after playing dumb and asking more questions about the process). I happened to be randomly selected by Sacramento for a review. Upon seeing my mostly empty and unsigned form, the EDD employee impressed upon me that I needed to fill out the form to a minimum level to prevent a follow up interview. She made it very clear that she was there to help me fill out the form. At this point I wondered what would happen if I hadn't looked for work at all.
Then, due to a bad childhood, the plight of the inner city, the lack of gay marriage, high fructose corn syrup, my oppressed Mexican heritage, and the Bush administration, I temporarily forgot all the places I had applied to, and accidentally told her I was waiting for a call back from a place that I was really sure was going to hire me, and hadn't looked for any work for weeks. (Had all those forces not been acting upon me, someone might think I was intentionally lying, and not the victim of a vast right wing conspiracy!) She told me this was wrong, and that I needed to fill out the form to continue receiving benefits. When I reiterated that I hadn't looked for work, she reiterated that she was there to help me, and asked me to think really hard to remember what job I must have applied for. She even offered to let me leave and come back once I remembered where I had applied. When I just happened to remember one of the places I had applied to, she took the lead, and told me what to write in each box to make sure I didn't get a follow up interview. Over the next few minutes, I slowly recalled the places I had applied to (places I really did apply to, but as far as she was concerned, was making up on the spot), and she helped me fill in the paperwork to the minimum level to prevent a follow up interview.
At no point did she advise me to lie, but at every opportunity she told me how to lie on the form, and reassured me that if I filled it in to a minimum level, I wouldn't have to worry about anyone checking on it. When I put the actual number of jobs I had applied to, she even implied I should go a little lower, but I reassured her it was OK (because I still didn't want to lie on an official form).
No wonder there are so many unemployed in California.
It drove me insane. I was barely unemployed three months, and I was bouncing off the walls. I was all flavors of depressed, filled with doubt, questioned my faith, and generally a basket case. I couldn't do this for two years. Literally. Had I gone a bit longer, there's no doubt in my mind that I would have had to take a part time job while I continued my job search. And honestly? Subway was the first place that came to mind.
2. Free time when you're unemployed and free time when you're employed are NOT THE SAME THING.
DO NOT THINK OF IT AS A VACATION! I thought I'd enjoy the downtime while I searched for a job. Instead, it was pretty evenly split between despairing, temporarily numbing my mind with video games, silently freaking out, discovering new ways to be secretly depressed, or pacing back and forth in the apartment.
3. My heart goes out to the Boomers looking for jobs right now.
Since writing that post, it has become increasingly obvious that the Booomers are getting dropped from positions, and put in the unfavorable position of competing against fresh, young college grads with mountains of debt who will jump at any job you throw at them that doesn't involve a paper hat. True, many Boomers in the tech industry failed to keep up their knowledge, or make themselves indispensable, or realize that there was an army of young'uns gunning for their job, but I still feel for them. I happen to know one was their second favorite for the job I was offered. Being familiar with the type, I knew that if he was my strongest competition, I was very likely to get the job. Which made me both sad and happy.
4. Keep things in perspective.
As hard as things got, I always felt better when I prayed for John and his wife. No matter how bad things get, you've still got to count your blessings.
5. Something ain't kosher in the unemployment line.
One of the things I noticed while on the hunt was the volume of jobs available, and the lack of applicants. Note I didn't say qualified applicants. If I didn't have enough qualifications for a job, I'd be pounding on doors, promising the world for minimum wage if they'd only give me a chance. Because that's exactly what I did to get my foot in the door of this field. But whenever I interviewed by phone, I found I was one of around 20 applicants. Either they mentioned they didn't have many interviews, or I was interview X out of Y, or they just mentioned that I was one of a few. Of course, that is not to say 1000 didn't submit their resume, and get a "thank you, but" e-mail. But I happen to think the positions for which I was applying were not that specialized, save a couple. Something just didn't add up. I've been told thousands apply to any job that becomes available, but I'm beginning to think they're only interested in applying. Smells like sandbagging.
6. The Ca EDD helps you *wink wink* *nudge nudge* stay unemployed.
The Employment Development Department randomly selected me for a review, so I went in to a local office for an interview. Not understanding most of the form, I left it blank so I could ask questions about filling it in rather than sign my name to something I didn't understand. When I got there, an EDD employee explained to me that Sacramento handles their own tracking of how unemployment is working, and how well EDD is doing its job of keeping leeches out of the system. (Obviously, the EDD employee worded it differently, but that's what I took from it after playing dumb and asking more questions about the process). I happened to be randomly selected by Sacramento for a review. Upon seeing my mostly empty and unsigned form, the EDD employee impressed upon me that I needed to fill out the form to a minimum level to prevent a follow up interview. She made it very clear that she was there to help me fill out the form. At this point I wondered what would happen if I hadn't looked for work at all.
Then, due to a bad childhood, the plight of the inner city, the lack of gay marriage, high fructose corn syrup, my oppressed Mexican heritage, and the Bush administration, I temporarily forgot all the places I had applied to, and accidentally told her I was waiting for a call back from a place that I was really sure was going to hire me, and hadn't looked for any work for weeks. (Had all those forces not been acting upon me, someone might think I was intentionally lying, and not the victim of a vast right wing conspiracy!) She told me this was wrong, and that I needed to fill out the form to continue receiving benefits. When I reiterated that I hadn't looked for work, she reiterated that she was there to help me, and asked me to think really hard to remember what job I must have applied for. She even offered to let me leave and come back once I remembered where I had applied. When I just happened to remember one of the places I had applied to, she took the lead, and told me what to write in each box to make sure I didn't get a follow up interview. Over the next few minutes, I slowly recalled the places I had applied to (places I really did apply to, but as far as she was concerned, was making up on the spot), and she helped me fill in the paperwork to the minimum level to prevent a follow up interview.
At no point did she advise me to lie, but at every opportunity she told me how to lie on the form, and reassured me that if I filled it in to a minimum level, I wouldn't have to worry about anyone checking on it. When I put the actual number of jobs I had applied to, she even implied I should go a little lower, but I reassured her it was OK (because I still didn't want to lie on an official form).
No wonder there are so many unemployed in California.
Monday, October 11, 2010
California budget 100 days late, relies upon magical money shitting goat to close gaps
Not quite a magical goat, but it might as well have been. They balanced the budget on the expectation that the economy will turn from bust to boom on a dime, and that the feds will give them a bigger allowance this year cuz they've been mowing the lawn, and taking out the trash, and keeping their room clean.
To anyone familiar with California's "maybe we'll win 4.8 billion dollars in the lottery next year" budget planning style, this should come as no surprise. But the fact that they're doing it in the middle of the greatrecession super happy recovery time, is just salt in the giant sucking chest wound that is California's fiscal liabilities.
Wait a minute... Are the feds the magical money shitting goat??? Maybe they're not so crazy...
To anyone familiar with California's "maybe we'll win 4.8 billion dollars in the lottery next year" budget planning style, this should come as no surprise. But the fact that they're doing it in the middle of the great
Wait a minute... Are the feds the magical money shitting goat??? Maybe they're not so crazy...
Thursday, September 30, 2010
San Diego pays $35k to settle unloaded open carry case
BIG win for the Calguns Foundation, and gun owners in California!
Full recount of the story
Results
Suck it Lori Saldaña! We owe it all to you being outfoxed by Ca Republicans at the end of the last legislative session!
Full recount of the story
Results
Suck it Lori Saldaña! We owe it all to you being outfoxed by Ca Republicans at the end of the last legislative session!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
I'm proud of California Republican legislators
For once.
Not noted in the article;
AB 1810 (Long gun registration) FAILED!
AB 2358 (further ammo restrictions) FAILED!
Video of the Assembly Floor session in question.
Fast forward to about 3:15:00 for the start of AB 1935 discussion, there's some good stuff in there. To keep Republican filibustering on the bill from running out the clock, Dems push off debate to hit some HIGHLY important issues like lead paint chips.
Fireworks start at 00:16:30 on video 5/5. Gets crazy around 00:25:17. At 00:28:30 Republicans literally pull out the rulebook, and put a stop to this cram session, effectively killing all bills that were pending.
STRATEGIC WIN
Not noted in the article;
AB 1810 (Long gun registration) FAILED!
AB 2358 (further ammo restrictions) FAILED!
Video of the Assembly Floor session in question.
Fast forward to about 3:15:00 for the start of AB 1935 discussion, there's some good stuff in there. To keep Republican filibustering on the bill from running out the clock, Dems push off debate to hit some HIGHLY important issues like lead paint chips.
Fireworks start at 00:16:30 on video 5/5. Gets crazy around 00:25:17. At 00:28:30 Republicans literally pull out the rulebook, and put a stop to this cram session, effectively killing all bills that were pending.
STRATEGIC WIN
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
California foodstamp cards used at casino ATMs
This should be grounds for immediate welfare denial.
Wait, what am I saying, this should be charged as theft.
This is disgusting.
Wait, what am I saying, this should be charged as theft.
This is disgusting.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
The 99ers can make my Subway sandwich or move.
In yet another story about how California is going to collapse under the weight of its own stupidity, and reduce to "emerging nation" status, I noticed this;
First of all, WTF 99 WEEKS OF FREE MONEY?!
Second of all, anyone who can't find work is not looking hard enough, or is not looking in the right place.
The goddamn Subway that I go to for lunch has had a "Help Wanted" sign posted for EIGHT UNEMPLOYMENT MILKING MONTHS! My wife lost her retail job last year, and found another one in about ONE MONTH.
I was writing up a little HOWTO on what to do to get from nothing to something, and then I realized it was a goddamn HOWTO for life. Live somewhere, take shitty job, live rough for a while, scrape and scrounge, save up, get a vehicle. Use vehicle to expand job opportunities, or skip vehicle and greyhound it to metropolitan area with lots of public transportation. Get better job. If no better job available, get better scholastic education or trade education, then get better job. Increase standard of living, continue looking for better job.
Repeat until life happens.
These people fail at life.
PS: When one unemployed person exhausts their 99 weeks of unemployment, the state of california ASSumes they must have found a job, and reduces the unemployment* number by one.
* Unemployment number does not reflect discouraged workers, workers who are not eligible for unemployment benefits, workers who are underemployed, workers who do not actively seek employment, or workers who did not seek unemployment.
The latest bill also does nothing for the more than 111,000 Californians who have exhausted their 99 weeks of benefits. Change.com has launched a grass roots campaign for the so-called "99ers" to get additional benefits for those who have now fallen off the unemployment rolls after exhausting their 99 weeks.
First of all, WTF 99 WEEKS OF FREE MONEY?!
Second of all, anyone who can't find work is not looking hard enough, or is not looking in the right place.
The goddamn Subway that I go to for lunch has had a "Help Wanted" sign posted for EIGHT UNEMPLOYMENT MILKING MONTHS! My wife lost her retail job last year, and found another one in about ONE MONTH.
I was writing up a little HOWTO on what to do to get from nothing to something, and then I realized it was a goddamn HOWTO for life. Live somewhere, take shitty job, live rough for a while, scrape and scrounge, save up, get a vehicle. Use vehicle to expand job opportunities, or skip vehicle and greyhound it to metropolitan area with lots of public transportation. Get better job. If no better job available, get better scholastic education or trade education, then get better job. Increase standard of living, continue looking for better job.
Repeat until life happens.
These people fail at life.
PS: When one unemployed person exhausts their 99 weeks of unemployment, the state of california ASSumes they must have found a job, and reduces the unemployment* number by one.
* Unemployment number does not reflect discouraged workers, workers who are not eligible for unemployment benefits, workers who are underemployed, workers who do not actively seek employment, or workers who did not seek unemployment.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
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