You Know What Pisses Me Off?

As I get older, I seem to reach a new level of curmudgeory every day.  Things and occasions that I
used to just shrug off, are now beginning to, as my Dear Uncle would say, "raise the hackles on my back."  I am becoming a natural curmudgeon; I understand now why cats hiss and dogs growl.  I suppose as with any situation in life, there are multiple reasons for this life change in me; natural aging (approaching 70); having to sit down to accomplish normal activities, i.e. putting on my pants, peeing in the middle of the night, etc., and of course my habit of reading the damn newspaper every morning.  I thought you would be interested (and why the hell wouldn't you?) in a few of the things that piss me off, not necessarily in order.

• Cats.  These are the domesticated(?) house pets who, in spite of hours and hours of personal counseling and gentle guidance, still do not understand the significance of the "Litter Box."  We have a cat, one who my wife occasionally reminds me is "even older than you," who delights in doing his business just INCHES from his own personal litter box, cleaned and raked daily like some sort of Japanese sand garden. Ever try to discipline a cat? 
• The Big Sports People In Charge.  Can someone tell me WHY baseball great Pete Rose has been permanently banned from Hall of Fame consideration, while the freaking idiot Michael Vic is still allowed to play football for the Eagles?  Apparently, boys and girls, it's okay to strangle dogs with your bare hands, just as long as you don't bet on a game ...
• Republicans.  Well you knew this one was going to be in here, didn't you?  But not all Republicans piss me off.  Just the ones who are gloating and grunting and pointing their stumpy little fingers at Obama for occasionally acting almost as bad as Dubya.  What?
• Ball Point Pens.  I'm talking about the ball point pens that you pick up to sign something with, and you absolutely have to find some OTHER piece of paper to scribble some squiggle of graffiti to make sure the stupid thing will write.  Think of the poor defenseless scraps of paper thrown away every day, simply because they were forced to be a test subject for a stupid pen.
• George Zimmerman.  That one probably goes without saying.
• The True Entitlement Class.  Righties love to bitch about food stamp families and welfare Cadillac drivers, but the true "entitlement" assholes are the idiots who drive their convertible Mercedes down from the hills who think they are entitled to park ANYWHERE they feel like, like an Applebee's Curbside space, and go inside to eat while those of us who are there to pick up our meager meal have to park somewhere else and walk ALL THE WAY over to the Curbside office to get our stuff.  (Okay, that one was kinda specific, but it really pisses me off.)
• Thank you.  I feel somehow better.

A Moving Experience

We've moved again.  The owners of our rental house on the hill finally retired at whatever they were doing in Texas, and have nudged us out of their dream home in Eugene.  The fools.  First of all, they're Texans.  Texans don't assimilate into our hippy-liberal-vegan-Saturday Market-type of

lifestyle easily.  One or two "y'alls" and they find themselves being treated like Chihuahuas without a green card.  And secondly, living on an extreme incline is very hard on old retired hips, especially the "ups," and not forgetting the "downs." But, we wish them well. Sorta.

Now, moving.  Who of us hasn't at one time or another said these words:  "I hate moving."  Moving an entire household is a semi-religious experience much like embarking on a pilgrimage to some mountain top shrine, where upon arrival you're beaten senseless by savages with sticks.  And when you're near 70 years of age, they set fire to your body afterwards.  But it had to be done.  And bygawd, thanks to a select few of my friends and family, we did it.

I realize now, for sure, why we have friends.  Friends will drop in unexpectedly, eat your food, borrow your lawnmower, flirt with your wife, spill your whiskey on your carpet, and sleep on your couch.  And they, and their pickup trucks, will help you move.  Over the past several days I have had the most extraordinary help of friends such as Dan Budd, Vic Hansen, and especially Vern Wells, and I mention them only because these names should be carved into some special granite monument to friendship everywhere.  Thanks, guys.  You actually saved my aging ass. 

The new place is cool, mainly because it's located on flat ground; no hills to climb to the front door; the car door won't slam shut as we're trying to get the groceries out of the back, and we can actually grow vegetables and flowers in the back yard because the freaking deer don't come down this low.  The old house we referred to as "The Hill House," because, well, it was on a hill.  We christened this house "The Hobbit House," because of the unusual placement of windows on the east wall of the living room.  They're located high on the wall, definitely not for gazing out of, and reminds me of a basement apartment I once rented in the 70's. But it's cool. I think we're home.  And I just have one more question:  WHERE in the HELL did we get all this CRAP?  Expect a monster garage sale.  But I digress ...

• Are you gluten intolerant?  ohwellshithellyes, that gluten stuff is messing up my body, and after I stopped eating bread and stuff I feel SOOO much better so I must be gluten intolerant, right?  Another question; can you actually feel WI-FI energy pulsing around you from sinister machines not only in your house, but from around your neighborhood?  Well, chances are, you're not, and I'm pretty sure, you can't.  How about MSG?  Is it really killing you?  How about this one, Are You a Sex Addict?  Ohfercrissakes ... Let's let Mark Morford straighten you out here:  Attack of the Gluten Intolerant Sex Addicts
• From various news sources, especially that Fox thing, we hear constant reports of local and international Muslim terrorism, plots and attacks, bearded head-towel wearing maniacs driven to madness by the evils of  that godless religion.  Seems kinda funny (not) that we don't hear so much about the Christian driven terrorists.  Christian terrorist, you say?  What in heaven's name could we be talking about?  Well, check this article out and get back to me:  "Ten of the Worse Terror Attacks by Extreme Christians and Far-Right White Men"
• Our beloved Republican Party is continuing its bizarre love affair with the late Ronald Reagan.  Ever since Reagan's death Republicans have been attempting to name everything possible after The Gipper, including airports and aircraft carriers.  Now they want to name 3.4 million square nautical miles of ocean after him.  So how does the "Ronald Wilson Reagan Exclusive Economic Zone" sound to you?  Jesusmaryandjoseph.
• As of this morning, the United States Government hasn't been able to get its hands on fugitive Edward Snowden, that evil man who had the audacity to inform the American people (and others) what the United States Government was actually doing.  The government's frustrating chase of Snowden has been, at the very least, quite entertaining to watch.  And there's much more to the story according to Professor Noam Chomsky in this article: "Is Edward J. Snowden Aboard This Plane?"
• In our never-ending search to bring you the best of the best top ten lists, here's one that Fox News haters will love: "The 10 Worse Fox Interviews of the Decade"  Enjoy!

Signs

So here was this moth.  I first noticed it on a Sunday morning, when I was going out to get the newspaper.  My first thought was that somehow a rogue wind had blown a leaf into a spider's web and suspended it above the porch light.  I was intrigued because of the size of this thing, a bit smaller than my outstretched hand.  Then I noticed this "leaf" had feelers, or antennas, and what appeared to be wings.  While I stared at it, it changed from a leaf to a well camouflaged moth.  I took it as a sign.

In some Native American folklore, a moth is a sign, or symbol, that some important event or emotion is about to be offered and learned.  Any of you who have read Carlos Castaneda knows what I'm talking about. So, naturally I prepared myself.  I went into the house, had breakfast, and forgot all about it. 

The next morning as I went down to once again get the paper, the moth was still there.  In the same place.  Day two of the moth visitation.  Was it dead?  Stuck to the wall perhaps, or dying and refusing to let go of the wall?  I found this a bit unsettling, and contemplated brushing the creature off the wall with a broom and to be done with it, but Castaneda wouldn't like that, so I left it where it was.  On the third day I started talking to it.  I brought my coffee out on the porch that third morning, and after observing that it had actually moved a few feet to a space below the porch light, I sat down on the step opposite the moth. "So look," I says, "what's the deal here?"  The moth, rudely, said nothing.  I figured I'd try the direct approach.  "You've been sitting on this wall for three days and you're starting to give me the creeps."  And then the big question:  "Are you trying to give me a sign?"   The wife appeared on the other side of the screen door and asked me who I was talking to.  "The moth," I said.  To her credit she replied "oh, okay," and closed the door.  I returned to the creature and asked one more time, "What IS IT?" 

We're moving at the end of this month.  Packing up and leaving, going to a new house down the hill a ways, to just as nice as this place with a beautiful big back yard.  A much larger yard for the cat and dog and those of us who like to putter.  And lots of big trees.  By the way, the moth left the afternoon of the third day.  It's waiting for us down the hill.  But I digress ...

• So we just lived through another American Fourth of July celebration, a reason to buy hundreds of dollars of explosive devices and set them off at all hours of the day or night, depending on which annoys your neighbors the most.  The 4th of July is a truly American holiday, sort of really loud Thanksgiving without the turkey.  Most right-wing Americans think the 4th of July is a time to celebrate white, Protestant, small town America, (think Sarah Palin).  But with all the problems this country is facing right now, what really is "E Pluribus Unum?"  Paul Krugman reports.
• So it's a sign of times that the people of Egypt have elected a leader fair and square, and after a short couple of years decided to get rid of him.  What?  Is it just me, or does this NOT sound like democracy?
• In a surprisingly intelligent move, the Supreme Court finally struck down the not-so-intelligent Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which leads to the demise of the ultra homophobic California Proposition 8.  Fox News and their Republican doom sayers promised death and hell fire to all of America.  To quote grinning Conservative Idiot Mike Hucklebee, "Jesus wept ..." although it's difficult to understand this statement as Jesus said absolutely nothing about marriage or homosexuals.  At any rate, while the Right Wing of America was contemplating slashing their collective wrists, the Left Wing of America was celebrating, big time.  It was like a big crack in the dome of depression had appeared and bright light suddenly shown through.  Mark Morford describes what it was like:  "Conservatives Don't Dance."
• And then we have our dear sweet Paula Deen.  Apparently rubbing two sticks of butter together isn't going to get her out of this one.  Paula got herself in hot water a couple years ago when she revealed she had developed type-2 diabetes, but kept on pumping out incredibly unhealthy recipes for her Food Network fans.  Strike one.  Lately, during a deposition for a court trial, Paula admitted to using the "N-word," which despite being strike two, is a big yawner
  
  considering Ms. Deen's extremely accurate portrayal of a ignorant slow talking southern racist, y'all.  Strike three came when it was revealed that Paula was not only a racist, she's a anti-Semitic homophobe too.  My my, how shocking.  So, for now, we American Food Network watchers will have to get by without Paula Deen's syrupy exaggerated southern homilies, and get back to eating healthy.  (I don't know about you, but I'm really going to miss her "Donut Burgers;" a hamburger patty wedged between two halves of a glazed donut.  Mmmm, y'all.)
• The United States Government has now built a fence, or a wall, between the US and Mexico that is over 650 miles long.  California, Arizona, and New Mexico are almost completely fenced off.  The Berlin Wall, in contrast, was only 87 miles long.  Apparently this isn't near enough for the Right-wing media (Faux News) who repeatedly distort the Obama Administrations efforts to keep those pesky Mexicans from coming over the border and stealing our strawberries.  Certifiable nutcase Michelle Malkin states that the government has failed "to secure the states against invasion," and "this current administration has done everything in its power to sabotage immigration law."  However, as usual, a quick check of the facts says something completely different.  This Is What Border Enforcement Actually Looks Like. 

War and Remembrance

(We decided to allow the Boy to have two of his friends over tonight, for an overnighter.  The other two are basically good kids, one has a little bit of a potty-mouth, but he apologized last time and promises he'll watch his language while he's in the house.  This is their last year of middle school and they're growing fast, entering that realm of hormones and high energy, wonder and illusion, and the days of killing Nazi thugs and evil aliens on their video games will be soon drawing to a close.  High school girls are coming.  I want to warn them, but they wouldn't listen to me.  What do I know, anyway.  At any rate, I got hot dogs and potato salad for them later, and Dad's homemade waffles in the morning.  It's a three day weekend, it should all be okay.  It's once again Memorial Day weekend.  I've put the flag up, perhaps prematurely, and as our tradition, the family will be going up to the cemetery and placing flags and flowers on our loved ones graves on Sunday.  Don't like to go on the actual Memorial Day, 'cause of all the people.  I guess, when you think about it, it's kind of a silly thing to do, and I never regularly did it like I do now, but when Uncle Bob died I made a promise to myself to visit his grave at least once a year.  On behalf of all of us here at Bad Hat, I wish you a very happy Memorial Day weekend.  Drive safe.  But I digress ...)

• Well golly, where to begin.  We've been gone for so long there's SO much stuff to report on, so let's just touch on the big ones, okay?  Tornadoes!  Big ones, global warming mothers of destruction wreaking havoc on innocent Oklahoma towns, throwing babies and cuddly animals halfway across the county, sucking parents right out of their shelters, wiping out elementary schools, pre-schools, day care facilities, Oh My Freaking F-5 God (on the Fugita scale).  Whyohwhy does God allow these things to happen?  Waitaminute, maybe it's not God doing all this afterall.  MAYBE it's the GOVERNMENT!  Conspiracy theory radio host Alex Jones says the government IS doing it.  Ohboy.  This is whole new kind of crazy.
• The NRA is also a twitchy clown car of paranoia and failure.  Well, by golly, I guess that pretty much sums it up.  George W. Bush is a sad, awkward loser.  Yes, I've noticed that too.  Pretty pathetic, actually.  Mark Morford makes these statements and more with a fascinating article called "Nine Amazing Truths You Already Suspected."
• Consider this:  The Boy Scouts of America, long a homophobic Christian based organization for the indoctrination of young boys, has finally bowed to pressure from the reality-based culture it exists in, and has said it will allow gay children to join its ranks.  (First question, why would gay children want to...?)  But wait, the BSA still retains its ban on gay scout leaders.  Ah yes, that "morally straight" clause.  Well, we salute the BSA for it's outstanding forward-thinking on this issue, but still advise any young man to stay away from joining this organization, just as we advise against joining the Catholic Church and eating at Denny's.  'Course that's just our opinion.
• GOP War On Sex Update:  An all-male panel of House lawmakers considered a bill on Thursday that would ban abortions after 20 weeks of pregnancy across the United States, without exceptions for rape, incest or health of the mother.  Notice it says "all-male panel."  Yes, once again, righteous male Republican members of congress have gathered together to decide what's best for a woman's body.  Rep. Trent Franks (R-Ariz.), the bill's sponsor, says that he hopes President Barack Obama will stand up for fetuses in the same way he stands up for the nation's poor and sick. "He is their president and they need him so badly." 
• I was watching the Today show the other morning, and after a while my attention got sidetracked with something else.  I left the TV on as I went into another room for a bit and when I returned I glanced at the set and saw a hunched up little elderly man, more troll than human, who was creaking out little homilies.  His face was so puffy with age that his eyes were just slits, and it was difficult to gauge where he was looking.  Was he looking at the camera?  Were his eyes closed tight?  I finally began to listen to what he was saying, and I paused for a while, watching him as I would watch the aftermath of a horrible car accident.  This man, I would realize later, was Pat Robertson.  This little man was advising the married women in his audience that even though infidelity by their husbands is a natural thing, the hapless wife could keep their straying mates home more if they kept the house clean.  And if you, like I, found that advice to be more than a bit odd, here's the 10 Most Absurd Sex Tips From the Christian Right.
• The current administration has been embroiled in several "scandals" recently, and thinking back on it, most second term administrations seem to have had them.  One of those Obama administration "scandals" is the IRS auditing of extreme right-wing "tea party" groups.  Unfortunate, I suppose, but before we really get into some kind of argument here, read this article entitled "How Did the IRS Get Investigatory Authority, Anyway?"
• Here's some good news:  President Obama has called for an end to the "War On Terror."  Naturally that pissed off the Conservatives, whose motives of operation call for instilling fear and loathing upon the general populace.  The President said "We have to be mindful of James Madison's warning that 'no nation could preserve its freedom in the midst of continual warfare.'"  Now if we could just call a halt to the ridiculous "War On Drugs."

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Tribute to The Old Man

The Old Man

We had to put The Old Man down Friday.  Cats are known for many things, living long is one of them, and occasionally you'll hear of one living to be a ripe old age, and Rutger, aka The Old Man was nineteen years old.  A respectable age under any circumstances, and considering his lineage, rather remarkable.  I've considered this column, this one about The Old Man dying, for some time now.  We've all suffered through countless writings where the writer obviously loved his pet, and needed for whatever reason to ease the pain of sudden loss by sharing the otherwise mundane life story and tearful goodbye scene at the end.   And of course most of us have suffered through the actual loss of a beloved pet/friend/companion, and realize how utterly intense it can be. 

I'm writing this because my wife says I should.  And I believe she's right, so bear with me.

The Old Man was born under a porch in Goshen, Oregon, to a much littered feral mother, sort of a feline neighborhood prostitute.  The litter of four was distributed free to good homes as usual and my wife was one of the recipients, in April of 1994, when the kitten was barely two weeks old.   She named him Rutger, after one of her favorite actors at the time, Rutger Hauer.  From the very beginning Rutger was slightly off, a bit different kitten-wise.  He would wait in ambush for any moving object to walk by and pounce on it like a hungry leopard.  He could scare the crap out of perfectly rational adults at any given time, and the look in his eyes didn't help to calm the victim.  It was "The Look" that made Rutger who he was.

First of all, it was the shape of his eyes.  He looked ... angry?  He was a staring contest master, and I swear people could feel him staring at them from across a room.  The Look was unnerving to say the least. He was not an easy cat to make friends with.  His disposition matched his visage,  maybe it was because of his feral family tree, and in general he didn't like humans, especially humans touching him.  Most cats arch their backs when petted, Rutger would bow his back and sink to the floor to get away from an offending human hand.  But this reaction wasn't out of fear.  Rutger feared nothing.  He had the most aggravating attitude of any domestic animal I've ever known.  He took life at his own speed.  You couldn't shoo him, shush him, startle him, or heaven forbid train him to do anything.  But at the same time, for some reason, he commanded respect out of all around him.  I think it was those eyes, The Look.

There were a few humans allowed to touch him; the daughter, the wife, and on occasion, me.  He was known to have actually played feline games with us once in a while, which would last until he tired of us.  We would be allowed to pet him too, if only for a few minutes until he ended the session with a quick unapologetic bite on the end of a finger.  We always felt honored.

Toward the end he mellowed, of course, and in spite of diagnosed heart and liver problems, stayed relatively healthy for most of his 19 years.  The other pets in the house treated him like a revered grandfather, The Old Man, and they would visit him at his special spot on the couch where he would appear to council them on the ways of the world, while licking and cleaning their fur.

The end came quickly.  In his later years he had developed arthritis in his hips, and had mastered a peculiar little walk, but on Wednesday morning his hind legs weren't working right at all.  He was walking like a drunken rabbit, splayed out on the tile floor, struggling to get to the water dish.  Vet said he had probably had a stroke, what with his heart problems and age.  Thursday, after another apparent stroke, the hind portion of his body hardly worked at all, and he stopped eating.  He allowed us to hold him and pet him, which we did all day, and he was communicating with those eyes all the time.  He didn't appear to be in any pain, and there was no fear.  Friday morning he couldn't stand at all and appeared paralyzed.  He lifted his head slightly and looked at me, and The Look was gone.  He was tired.  My wife held him close as we drove to the vet, and he went to sleep quietly, calmly, and with great dignity. 

I'm not much of a "cat person."  But The Old Man earned my respect, and in the end, my love.  He was a fine curmudgeon.

Happy Tax Day - Monday Update

(We experienced a sad moment the other day when we heard that the world had lost one of its best improvisational comedians, Jonathan Winters.  I remember listening to Jonathan Winters records in my late teens and falling in love with his repeating characters such as Maudie Frickert and Elwood P. Suggins.  Back in the 50's and early 60's, comedians were a bit different than now, a little more clownish and a lot less profane, and we bought their LP's to listen to over and over until we had them all but memorized.  How many of us old guys can still do a Cosby bit?  ("Noah!" "Is that you Lord?")  One of my favorite Winters routines involved a boy named Lamar Jean who after telling everyone he was going to fly, scotched-taped 147 pigeons to his arms and jumped off a cliff.  He was actually doing well until "some damned fool throw'd a bag of popcorn in the stone quarry and he bashed his brains out."  While his style of improv never worked for a TV series, he guest starred on every talk show available.  It was difficult for him to even star in movies, although those of us who knew him will never forget his roles in "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World," and "The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming."  While some comedians of that era played comedy a bit more sophisticated than Jonathan, i.e. Bob Newhart, Shelley Berman, and Mort Sahl, he was the only one who could take a plain stick and improv with it until tears rolled down your face in laughter.  Of course part of the sadness I'm feeling is that Jonathan Winters was a part of my youth and early adult life, and his passing reminds me of our own mortality. Here's five of Jonathan's funniest bits.  Rest in peace Jonathan.  But we digress ...)

•  Karen Brauer, president of something called Pharmacists for Life (and I don't even want to get into that one) was quoted as saying “When these [drugs] are right out there with the bubble gum, they’re going to be part of the date rape cocktail."  What?  What's this?  Some sort of "roofie" drug to knock out an unsuspecting young lady at a party?  Well, actually no, what Karen is so alarmed about is that a federal judge has finally ruled that emergency contraception (Plan B) be made available to all ages without a prescription.  Available even to the under 17 set.  Shocking, you say?  About time, you say?  Wait 'till you read what Mark Morford says.  "Bubblegum and the Date Rape Cocktail."
• We're growing increasingly weary of gun ownership advocates who yammer on incessantly about how more gun laws "won't stop gun tragedies from happening," "won't stop crazy assholes from using assault rifles against classrooms full of small children," and who complain like it's the end of the world because stores are running out of ammunition to buy lately.  A distant friend of mine wrote on FaceBook the other day that he was disgusted with whomever was "dragging the parents of the Newtown kids out and parading them in front of the cameras to further gun control legislation."  I "unfriended" him, a satisfying tool that should be available in real life too.  No one ever said controlling the flow of guns in this country would eliminate gun violence, any more than creating tough pollution laws would eliminate pollution in this country.  The Second Amendment is obsolete, even the conservative New York Post thinks so, and those who constantly throw it in the face of concerned citizens to defend their insane obsession with high-capacity firearms are in need of counseling, at least.
• And while we're on the subject, here's a little item you may have missed.  Apparently the National Rifle Association sponsored a NASCAR race the other day, and during it a drunken man in the infield pulled out a gun and committed suicide.  Let's see, I believe that's called "Irony." 
• From the I Really Wish I Hadn't Said That Dept.:  From singer(?) heart-throb Justin Bieber, after visiting the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam the other day, "Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber."  Cute.
• And finally, a Republican Congressman from Texas named Steve Stockman, has written a new bumper sticker for his campaign.  It reads: "If Babies Had Guns, They Wouldn't Be Aborted."  Seriously.

  

We Got Crabs In Netarts Bay

(So we got that pesky birthday thing done with and now I'm one year nearer to the average obituary age.  And never mind the fact that I thought the big day was on Saturday, when actually it was on Friday.  But, oh well, I'm now firmly planted in my sixty-eight year.  Jonathan's spring break week was exciting for us both.  We left Mom to tend to the livestock and he and I traveled to the far northwest to visit long time friends Jerry and Cheri' at their new beach house in Netarts, Oregon, of all places.  Netarts is a small village about 6 miles west of Tillamook, Tillamook being where they make all the cheese.  Jerry took Jonathan out into Netarts Bay for his first lesson in crabbing, and even though the crabbing at that time wasn't very good, they managed to bring home two large males.  The Boy had his first taste of fresh crab that evening, with drawn butter and garlic, and declared it outofthisworld.  And Jeez, I didn't even mention Easter.  Some of my friends have sent me messages claiming "he is rizen."   I'm working on a story for the Syfy Network along those same lines.  But I digress ... )

• What could possibly go wrong with this idea?  Wal-Mart is considering having customers deliver online purchases to other customers who live near the route they may be taking home.  In other words, Wal-Mart will offer you a discount on your own purchases, if you'll kindly drop off a few packages to other customers who've bought something on-line.  As this article points out, this is "taking exploitation to the next level."
• Here's a sobering and frightening look at the short history of drone strikes committed by the United States government.  Pitch Interactive, a California-based data visualization shop, has created a beautiful, if somewhat controversial, visualization of every attack by the US and coalition forces in Pakistan since 2004. We're still not sure of the legality, let alone the morality, of these pilotless, video-game killing machines, in spite of the fact that it keeps our pilots out of harm's way.  Something doesn't smell right.  Check this out, from Mother Jones, and you decide.
• As much as it pains me to say this, even defense-spending Republicans are alarmed about the newer military drones.  "Boeing, the aircraft manufacturing giant from Seattle, helped defeat a Republican proposal in Washington state that would have forced government agencies to get approval to buy unmanned aerial vehicles, popularly known as drones, and to obtain a warrant before using them to conduct surveillance on individuals."  David Taylor, a Republican member of the state legislature, introduced a bill to regulate drone use. The proposed law quickly won support from several Democratic party politicians on the state Public Safety Committee, as well as members of the ACLU.  Is the end of world coming, or not?  Holy Cow!
• Being, or at least claiming to be, an atheist is not an socially acceptable position to take as yet, but we're gaining on it.  To attempt to take a purely scientific view of life is not popular with approximately 50% of Americans.  I used to refer to myself as a "militant agnostic," because that phrase made me smile, and it was really close to what I really felt about all this nonsense.  But now I'm nearing 70, I feel I have a right to declare myself.  I am NOT a believer in superstitious mumbo-jumbo, no matter how it's dressed up.  And our numbers are growing.  Our numbers are growing so fast that some people, like Frans De Waal, are saying that militant atheists have created a new religion.  What do you think?
• And along those same lines, here's something you probably didn't see for Easter.  Hope you found all your eggs, and the bunny was good to you this year.