Need caffeine & public accountability. (My usual accountability partner, zulu_mom, has fled the city to organize a Canada Day shindig in the heartland of Alberta.)
Dear world, I must rewrite one section of exegesis today.
2. No, not that kind of coke, though it might actually help more.
3. Where was I?
4. Oh yeah. Get caffeinated soda.
5. OPEN DOCUMENTS.
8. Better exegesis.
Updates as they become available.
The National Immigration Law Center have donation-matching up to $100,000 to help them create a Rapid Response Fund:
Donate to NILC
Planned Parenthood Action have donation-matching up to $350,000:
Donate to PP
The Climate Science Legal Defence Fund have matching up to $50,000:
Donate to the CSLDF
The National Network of Abortion Funds have matching up to $50,000, and their solicitation e-mail ends "Let’s fund abortion, build power, and radically love each other," bless them (they're also the only organization I've encountered where a staff member has their preferred pronouns in their sig, which makes me feel warm and fuzzy):
Donate to the NNAF
If you know of others, please comment!
(X-posted to thisfinecrew.)
2. Some people at work got me a birthday cake today, which was totally unexpected and a nice surprise. :)
3. Look at these Molly paws!
Late Night Depth
Something new caught my attention this time through the book.
Kushner revealed that id’s ace coder, John Carmack, adopted an aggressive tactic to increase his effectiveness while working on his breakthrough Quake engine: Carmack, seeking a break from distraction, began to shift the start of his workday one hour at a time, until eventually he was starting his programming in the evening and finishing before dawn.
The uninterrupted depth provided by this odd habit allowed Carmack (with help from graphics guru Michael Abrash) to reinvent electronic entertainment with the first lightening fast, fully 3D PC game engine.
I mention this example because I think it supports my prediction that high impact computer programming will be one of the first places we start to see a major revolt from the standard knowledge work approach of spending most of your day tending inboxes and chat channels. For the Carmacks of the world, the value of what they can produce if left to operate at full cognitive capacity (Quake sold 1.8 million copies), far outweighs the inconveniences of them becoming hard to reach.
These initial revolts will be important — not because we will want to mimic the exact habits they produce, but because they’ll help spread the idea that how we work in the knowledge sector is much more flexible than we might currently imagine.
Americans who can find North and South Korea on a map are more likely to prefer diplomacy to war.
Which country is our strongest ally? After dumping (on) Britain and Europe, Republicans are leaning toward Australia.
Being forgetful may mean your brain is working properly. Do I really have to remember the essay I wrote for the NYS English Regents exam?
Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayer's dissent warns that the US is turning into a prison state. She's not wrong. Read this.
Body shape analysis with kittens.
Obama on the Trumplackofcare bill. Ignore the grandiosity of the webpage and drop down to the speech. And the Congressional Budget Office's crunched numbers show 22 million would lose health care. Essentially, it is the cynical and uncaring RetroRepublicans trading lives for tax cuts.
And an editorial on why people are in politics, and how this week will define them. Quoting ( behind the cut: )
Author: Hakoishi Toru
Publisher: Young Jump
Genre: Humor, Sports
Status in Japan: 1 volume, ongoing
Scanlator: Megchan's Scanlations + Anima Regia
Scanlation Status: Ongoing
More Info: Baka Updates
Summary: Hino is obsessed with playing sports in high school, but not because he loves sports (he doesn't), or is any good at them (he's really not). He's doing it because that's the way to get a girlfriend (or so he thinks). After getting kicked out of half his school's sports clubs, he's still convinced he just hasn't found the sport he's truly destined for. When he (literally) runs into Noborito Ayako, manager of the rubgy club, it's love at first sight (for him), but all she's looking for is another warm body for the struggling rugby club. Could this be the chance he's been waiting for?
Chapter Summary: Hino is now convinced he's a rugby prodigy, but not everyone agrees.
Chapter 4: Hino's True Ability
I am finding myself getting angry at people. Just humans in general. On the way to work, I drive past bucolic countryside, usually seeing a small herd of elk, maybe a deer or two, some eagles. Well, last week, heavy equipment started appearing in one of the largest fields where the elk usually graze. A developer intends to take both fields on either side of the road, plow it all under and put in cheap-ass fourplexes and sixplexes like he has done with every other develop-worthy land behind our offices. Today while in a meeting, the ravine behind our office started being torn down.
I need to move to the Northwest Territories. I've heard Yellowknife is lovely.
"Progress" can't be stopped. I know that. Look at history and the fact that no one ever learns from it, but honestly, what is wrong with leaving a teeny corner of land for the many, many species which were here before us and which aren't systematically destroying the earth the way the "advanced" human species is?
Different types of exercise affect different parts of the brain.
A disillusioned Reaganite explains why he's not a Democrat. Read this one.
Nobel-winning economists oppose Trumpcareless.
Ways to stay motivated in this shit-shellacked era of epic stupid.
Kentuckians are represented in the Senate by McConnell and Rand Paul. They have a lot to lose if Trumpuncare passes, and they're letting McConnell know that.
Salvatore Dali's body is being exhumed for a paternity test that may give a lot of his estate to someone nobody expected.
How much traffic on Eclipse Day, Aug. 21?
Gay Pride marchers carrying a Star of David were kicked out of the Chicago parade.
Russia has recalled the ambassador at the center of the Trump investigation.
A review of the status of TrumpnoIdontcare, from The Slatest.
How Harry Potter enchanted the world.
How Sikhs, Muslims, Hindus, Jews and some Christians dress for worship.
America's 11 most interesting mayors.
Technology catches up with tech workers in India.
How gay should a gay bar be?
Congress, Amartya Sen and the Saudi-imposed famine in Yemen.
Dogs calming cheetahs.
Jack was the kind of character that I wish I'd met when I was older -- I think I met him once when I was 4, which wasn't that memorable. As I said, he was a baker, and he was engaged to this girl that everyone in the family liked (which might have been difficult, since Jack was the youngest of 9 and the family tended to be protective of their littlest brother, never mind that he was in his 20s.) And on the day of the wedding ... she didn't show up. Neither did his best man. They'd eloped.
It broke his heart. He couldn't stay in the Ottawa Valley any more; it was just too uncomfortable. So he took a job as a cook on a ranch in Alberta, took the train west, and came back at Christmas when he could. He taught my mom to knit, because he knew how to knit his own socks, and held her skeins of yarn for her while she wound them into balls, telling her stories of the ranch all the time. He taught her how to make piecrust, and a cake that wouldn't fall, and a lot more. Nellie would write to him and get frustrated when he didn't reply -- someone from the ranch would stop at the post office in town once a week or so -- so after two attempts that got no answer one year she put on the address, "If not claimed within two weeks, addressee is deceased; please return to sender." He wrote back really fast after that, and made a big joke of it.
When he came back during World War I, both his parents were dead (his mother a few years earlier but his father died in about 1917-1918) and were buried out in the little cemetery by the river church, without a headstone. He went around to visit all his brothers and sisters, asking for a little money to pay a stone cutter, and got nowhere. And yeah, he could understand that farmers and small merchants had a hard time during wartime, but there was family pride at stake too. So he dug into his own pocket, and one day a gravestone, a tall, elegant granite marker, appeared over their graves. Engraved on it was, "Sacred to the memory of Daniel and Catherine McNeely," and their dates and I think (it's been a while since I saw it) a pious verse of some sort. But in another line, underneath, "Erected by their son, John McNeely." (Never mind his three older brothers, and five sisters.) Nobody in the family took it badly, and some found it really funny, but under it all people were grateful that it had been done. And they all thought it was very much a Jack thing to do.
When he died in the late 1960s, after several years in a nursing home back in the Ottawa Valley, near family, he was buried near his parents, and the marker was altered to add his name and dates.
So, please, use Uncle Jack's Piecrust Recipe, and welcome, and pass it along. I don't want it to vanish into the place where good memories go when nobody remembers them any more.
I have it testing here so you can look through the css. If you could help me out a bit D: I would be very grateful.
2. It was pretty hot and muggy today, but if the forecast is to be believed (and I would like to believe it), today was the worst and it should be getting cooler for the next ten days or so. (It's definitely cooled off a lot tonight.)
3. We ordered Indian food for dinner and it was super tasty. The place we got from was new to us, but I will definitely be ordering from them again in the future. Among other things, we got mango chicken masala, which was amazing. Also cheese naan.
4. I happened to see a really cute Darth Maul Funko Pop the other day and ordered it from Amazon as a birthday present for myself and it actually came right on my birthday. :D
5. Chloe is such a pretty kitty!
After we'd wandered around most of the buildings, she took me to the nature trails, on the wilder part of the campus by the river. The trails had been there for a century or more, weaving through the woods and the nearby swamp; the longer trail we ended up on ran from the village to the west, past the campus, and into a park halfway to the city of Olean, on the east. It was well-worn dirt, not bad for walking, and she was talking and gesturing as we walked and I listened.
Then I looked up.
There were trees on both sides of the trail, so we were walking under the arch of their branches. And on one of those low branches -- say, 15' from the ground -- there was a bald eagle, and it was staring at me. It shifted around on the branch to face me full on.
I tried to get her attention; I couldn't manage to interrupt her, and we kept walking forward toward that branch.
The eagle lifted off, watching me the whole time, and swooped low, its claws nearly touching my head, and swung off into the woods.
The girl with me never saw a thing.
I learned later that the eagle was one that had been found injured in a farmer's field, had been taken to a branch of the Audubon Society, where they had a vet who patched up wounded birds, and rehabilitated. When she was released, she built a nest on the edge of the swamp, near the river. That wasn't a bad choice for a fish-eating bird -- that river had four-foot carp, not to mention catfish and other fish.
I used to see the eagle again, when I was walking through the trails, taking a break from class. There was a small clearing in the woods, with a stone bench that caught the sun, and it was a good place to study or catch up on reading -- I've never been able to study with other people around me. After a while, the animals would come out to see what this odd thing was that smelled like a human but didn't move like one. I would see deer fairly often, and parts of wild turkeys (you never saw a whole one -- they always kept part of a tree between you and them), and once or twice a fox. But they left when I moved, and none of them gave me the intense close encounter that I had with that eagle.
I get some snacks and we settle into our seats. The movie starts, the cute song and the little girl walking. Soon we realize, we are seeing the Japanese version with no subtitles. Someone alerts the staff and the movie plays on. I'm happy to watch it this way-- the story is very simple and to me, not understanding the words only plays into the dream-like quality of Miyazaki movies. But not long into it, the movie pauses and the manager comes in, to apologize. He says that they got the wrong version, and they will be playing the English dubbed version. Some people in the audience object. My friend a row below us calls out for people to clap if they want the dubbed version vs. if they want the Japanese version. It's about evenly split.
Well, they must have decided to do the dubbed version because they stopped the film. We decided to leave and get our refund.
Anyways, that is our Totoro story!