Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Opinion news

When I was a kid, okay, older than a kid also, people got their news primarily two ways. They either read the newspaper or watched the evening news. It was known as the news cycle. Many got their news both ways. In my early years, my family subscribed to both the morning and evening papers. Looking back on it all, I'm not sure how my parents found the time to read it all, but they did.

Now, with the advent of twenty-four hour, nine-hundred channel televisions, and an internet that never sleeps, news is everywhere. Well, that is what all that programming would like you to think. All that coverage isn't really news. Back in the day, when the speaker sort of 'went off topic' you would see a notice on the television screen that this was the anchor's commentary or opinion. You know what you don't see any longer? Those words on the screen.

All these alphabet channels with their twenty-four hour programming aren't really news channels. They are opinion shows. The vast majority of MSNBC, FNC, CNBC, etc. type channels simply give their slant to the news. Although it may give some of its audience a new slant to think about, most need to keep in mind the stories are extremely bias toward the hosts or moderators opinions. The facts they provide are facts as they see them.

I think most people could save themselves a lot of aggravation if they simply stayed away from most of these opinion shows. Is Sean Hannity or Rush Limbaugh really in the business of news, or are they in the business of making news about themselves?

My guess is the latter.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Have we lost our way?

I watched an interesting segment on 60 Minutes this evening. I know, geez old timer. When did your father's viewing habits kick in? Hey, at least I'm not watching FBI (with Efrem Zimbalist Jr.). We all change over time, our viewing habits as well as other things. We get older and with that age comes a new perspective. Sometimes you just need to hear a point of view you haven't considered before.

Now the segment didn't really give me a new perspective, however at some point it did give me pause to consider how I view this nations foreign policy when it comes to war. The 60 Minutes episode was an interview with Ben Ferencz, the last surviving prosecutor of the Neuremberg trials. He recounted his prosecution of Nazi war criminals who systematically hunted down Jewish people who lived all over Eastern Europe. Mr. Ferencz is now ninety-seven years old. He has made it his mission to crusade against war. He is still active and highly respected in the international law community (as reported by CBS News).

In listening to him speak I was struck by why we fought this war and the war before that. In those times the United States largely kept to itself in international matters. We were a country that was prone to isolationism. WWI was largely a political war. It was about ideologies. It was about aggression of one civilized country against others.  WWII was political, but it was also very different. By the end of the war in Europe, it had become clear that it was more than just a war of ideology. It was a war of saving humanity from ourselves.

The next wars became nothing more than one ideology against another. It was communism versus democracy, at least our version of democracy. It played out without the thought of humanity. We have lost our way. We have pitted one puppet insurgent against another with little thought to the long view of the world. We have wrapped our short term interests around our flag and told ourselves we're doing it for the innocents. Yet nothing can be further from the truth.

It's time the United States looks to its past and the greatest moments of our history. We were the saviors, not because our politics were right, it was because our hearts were right, our passion for life was strong. We chose humanity over tyranny because no one else could. The internal struggles of nations should no longer be our concern. Only when those struggles are imposed on innocents that can't defend themselves should we step in and then only in the gravest of situations.

The world has always been a violent place. It is time we no longer commit ourselves to infighting when one dictator or petty warlord wishes to overthrow another. We must let others play their own games of death. It is not our game to play. The army doesn't get involved when one guy shoots another at the corner of Fifth and Main. We should no longer be the police of the world. Does a change in government in Syria, Sudan, Congo, or Kazakhstan really alter our world? Hardly.

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Boys of summer

The weather warms and the dust swirls upon a once empty lot covered with dirt. But the dirt field is empty no longer. It is filled with the boys of summer. And I do mean, boys of summer.

With the coming of spring, I have been lured back to the ruddy infields and weed-infused green outfields of baseball diamonds strewn around the Midwest. I grew up on such a field where North of 50 and I learned the great American past time. I learned to throw against concrete steps and learned to catch as that ball came screaming back at me. You could trace how well I learned by how each month I had fewer and fewer bruises on my legs.

We played pickup at an overgrown diamond three doors down from our home. Our 'home field' even had its own backstop, a real one that arched overhead. North of 50 had an incredible pitching arm. I watched him break a batting helmet of a poor little neighborhood boy with his fastball. It was all an accident, but it made you stop and think about going up against him. He took that arm into high school and did pretty well  from the mound.

My journey renewed itself this month and the memories came flooding back as I watched seven and eight year old boys, little boys, boys who learned to wear baseball caps the proper way, learned to strap a belt through a uniform pants and learned to pound the plate with their bat. Then they held the bat up high and waited for their first pitch.

The dust filled the air as the breezes blew across the chilled infield. But smells it is said, trigger some of the strongest memories. My grandson, Ragin Cage is learning to hold his glove, catch a fly and a grounder and swing a bat, hopefully at something other than a post or a tree. I see the excitement in his eyes as he now has teammates.

I remember those days, those times in my life when all I could think about was finding enough kids to play some pickup. The only this missing these days is the crack of a wooden bat. 'Ting', just doesn't do it for me, if you get my meaning.

Bottom of the third ... who's up coach?

Sunday, April 16, 2017

A brief excerpt from Ghost Fleet

My current work in progress, book two of a science fiction series has taken much longer to write that I've intended. Life as such tends to get in the way of the best of intentions. I have however had a resurgence in writing time in the last couple months. Still, not the time I wish I had. 

I would like to offer the following brief excerpt of Ghost Fleet, book two of the Home World Series. I hope to have Ghost Fleet out  by mid-summer. After that, a return to book three of the Last Elf Prophecy Series, Awakening of Lillestrom.

Enjoy!
          

The main science lab was in the midst of a cycle change. The bustle of crew coming and going, exchanging information and data was nothing short of a near-deafening event. Andren knew if need be she could lock herself away in Danson’s office and get away from the commotion. But that was not much of a desired option these days. Before she met Frank, the solitude would have been welcomed as well as the companionship. She had grown close to Danson. They were more than just friends, they were good friends. She had grown accustomed to the sound of his voice, his slightly self deprecating nature, and his presence when he was in the lab. She turned at the sound of Danson’s voice behind her rising above the din. The only warmth she now felt within the lab, the one place she had called her sanctuary, was the porcelain teacup nearly glued to her hand.
Danson pointed toward his office and immediately turned left. She watched him disappear through the doorway, his lab coat billowing out at the sides. She inhaled deeply knowing she now wanted no part of this discussion no matter how routine it was. She told herself that’s all it would be, a routine change of cycle. She set her cup down in its familiar place, stood and pressed her hands against her white coat reminding herself she was a scientist, a professional. She strode forward with all the confidence she could muster and stepped into his office.
 “Nothing much to report sir,” Andren began as she stepped up to his small desk.
“Sir is it now?” Danson lowered his eyes to his desk before glancing back up. “Is this what we’ve come to Andren? Sir?”
“We need to keep it professional Danson.”
“We’ve always kept it professional. At least I thought we did.”
“I have a report, if you’d like to hear it.” She looked down at her notes and began to fire off her summary. Danson stared blankly at her without hearing a thing she said. After three minutes, she dropped her papers on the desk and looked up.
“That’s it?”
“That’s the cycle report of the main lab, yes.”
“You’ve changed Andren. You used to be dedicated to your craft. Now, it almost seems secondary to …”
“To what? To Frank? Don’t be so petty Danson. My work hasn’t suffered, only my time spent with you. I’ve come alive for the first time in years. I see things outside of this lab. I see my life in a different context.”
“But this is a time of war!” Danson’s face hardened.
“It’s always war Danson. Don’t you understand that? It’s been war for ten years, and for ten years I’ve put my career first. And what did it get me? It got me stuck on a starship in a hideous white lab coat sailing through the Void on a suicide mission.” She slammed her hand down on the desk. “Where is my time Danson? What’s in it for me?”
“Your service to this ship, Lieutenant!”
“That’s just not good enough any more,” she shouted as she rubbed her stinging palms together. “Maybe it’s about time you see the same thing.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “My time is no longer yours, it’s mine,” she said quietly. Andren pressed her hands against her sides and turned heading toward the door. “Will that be all?” she asked, and walked out with no answer from Danson.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Rules, whether you like them or not

We live our lives in a society that is filled with rules. All kinds of rules. Some are laws, others just regulations. Many are instituted by all the various levels of government. Some are written by private groups or companies.

The recent uproar in the airline industry is a prime example. Airlines are private companies with their own rules. They work in conjunction with the FAA, a branch of the federal government. When you purchase a ticket to hitch a ride to a destination on an airline, you are subject to their rules. You may not like them, but they are the rules.

Have you ever read them? I doubt it. They are quite long and pervasive. However, whether you read them or not, you must obey them. You are subject to whatever the flight crew and pilot of the aircraft commands. In essence, they are your gods and have dominion over you. There is a reason. One cannot have people doing whatever they want when two-hundred of their fellow travelers are riding the friendly skies thirty-thousand feet in the air.

By now, I'm sure most of you know what I'm referencing; the forcible removal of a doctor, a passenger aboard a United Airlines flight. Now, I'm not condoning what happened to the passenger on that flight. It is amazing how stupid people who try to enforce the rules can be. They used extreme and excess force and it should not be condoned nor tolerated.

I place just as much blame for this incident if not more on the passenger, Doctor David Dao for his actions. This is a country of rules and laws. If I were in his position I would not have liked to be removed from the plane either. I would likely have bitched and moaned all the way off the craft. But I would have walked off the plane with my own dignity intact. He is the one who created the scene and now we have another group who claim they are all 'traumatized'. (Hell, watching the nightly news is more traumatizing. What a sad state of affairs has become of our populace.)

It won't happen due to public backlash, but I would hope that this passenger is forced into court and is either fined or does jail time for interfering with the directions of a flight crew. I also hope anyone who is of the litigant variety sues him and not the airlines. It was his actions that caused all this 'trama', although I hope any halfway intelligent judge throws all those complaints out on their ear. It would be worth it just to have David Dao go through all the hassle.

If I were one of his patients, I'd drop him like a hot potato. I would hope my doctor has better judgement than that.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

The Millennials

Over the last several decades it has become fashionable to classify the recent generational groups. It seems to have started, at least by my recollection, with the WWII era, Greatest Generation. It has then gone to Baby Boomers, X, and Y, and now the Millennials. Perhaps this is not something new. Probably sociologists have done this forever, but it is now in the venue of public expression.

Most of what is written about this new generational mark is how they are ungrateful or how much they whine about their circumstances in the world. The problem with marking generations is the wide disparity of people in the age group and the economic variations faced within. It is said they don't know how to work because they never had jobs in their teens. They complain about not having $60k dollar jobs right out of college; they are too privileged. They don't understand why they must enter the workforce at the bottom. It has for every generation preceding yours. That's how you learn.

To some extent all those statements are true. But to read those qualities into all Millennials is ignorance. Like all generations, they come from various backgrounds. Most who comment on Millennials just want to lump all of this generation into the highly mobile urban and suburban group. Take that group and put them up against those of the same age that grew up on farms, grew up in middle income or slightly lower income levels than their richer counterparts. There are plenty of Millennials that know how to go to work and can work with their hands to fix a car or build something out of wood.  Not everyone in this generation is a snobby rich kid.

There is one thing they all do have in common, but it is the same thing every generation who steps into the world faces. They are naive. They believe the world owes them something simply because they exist. They believe the previous generations have screwed up the world and handed them a plate of poo. They don't understand they are not the first generation to speak out about social injustice. Ever hear of the Sixties? It wasn't just a bunch of hippies and flower power.

Each generation inherits the world from what was built before them. Each also has worked to fix those issues handed to them and build upon those things that are good. The cries of having to borrow too much money to go to school falls on deaf ears to those who could not afford to go to college under any circumstances. Those are the same people who build the interstate systems, raised enough food to feed the world and struggled to defeat world-wide oppression.

The world and societies evolve and each generation must therefore deal with problems never before seen in the annuls of man. Other generations struggled to overcome the issues handed to them. It's time you begin to learn to deal with the problems that will be handed to your generation so you can pass on your vision of a better world to those that come after you.

Failure to do so simply proves to the critics of your generation that they were right and Millennials are just a generation of do-nothing complainers. The ball's in your court. Time to make a play.


Friday, March 10, 2017

I'm a terrible patient

So here I am again laid up from a minor procedure. If you remember, most of the end of last year I was standing around a lot due to having a cyst taken off my 'undercarriage'. It was annoying and frustrating, and though my current obstacle is quite different it reminds me that I am by my nature a truly mobile person.

Well, now I'm even less mobile due to an arthroscopic procedure on my knee. It's only been a few days but already I'm antsy. I don't like people waiting on me, getting me things even if it is something as simple as my coffee in the morning. Believe me, I appreciate the thought but it is not in my nature to be coddled. When I go to a restaurant, I want the staff to occasionally check on me but not overdue it. You'll get a bigger tip if you just smile, check on me twice and keep my water filled and have the check ready when we're finished eating. I'm not demanding in any way.

With a bum knee, I'm under several restrictions from My Beloved. The first being, no stairs. Okay, with our new house the only stairs are to the basement but that is where I'm putting my new workbench together. Can't go down and do that. We still have boxes to sort through from the move and guess where they are, in the basement.

There is plenty of work to do outside, most of which won't be tackled until the true season of spring rolls around, but with a large yard, it's slick and slightly muddy. Can't walk around out there either even if it just to view nature in its ruddy finest.

I suppose I will adapt. My Beloved knows I get irritable sitting around and she tries not to fawn over me, although how could she resist; I'm so lovable. Daytime television doesn't really help much. It's a dearth of entertainment. I miss the days when the History Channel actually had history on it or The Learning Channel had something to learn other than which wedding dress one woman or another is deciding on. They might as well let that channel sign off at night if all it has to offer is reality garbage. (By the way, ever notice how reality TV is really scripted and actually has nothing to do with reality? You did know that, didn't you?) I wish I could think up a clever subtitle for the letters TLC for the sludge it has become but those words escape me at the moment.

At least I can sit down this time and I have the time to write. Hopefully my imagination is still better than what's on television.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

A changing world

I don't usually post things that tend to be political in nature on this blog. That's not what we started it for and with the news recently of presidential appointments for cabinet seats, there is a lot of uproar in the headlines.

One such nominee is for the Environmental Protection Agency. Now, I don't know this person. All I see in the headlines are his ties to the big oil industry. Big oil and fossil fuel companies are prone to trying to roll back any regulation that interferes with their profits. Business is about profits. Always has been. Always will be. There is no changing that fact no matter what the business or industry. Regulation interferes with their business models and it costs money to adapt.

The point of this ramble is, the earth is changing. I am one that tends to believe in a scientific model and study the evidence and facts that come along with it. I fully understand facts can be manipulated by either side of an argument. If you are one who does not believe the earth is getting warmer, I for the life of me don't understand your position. The evidence is overwhelming. If you decry the warming argument, you at least have to believe things are changing and they won't be the same in a hundred years as it has been in your lifetime.

One problem is people always want to blame one thing. It's xx's fault, or it's yy's fault. I generally don't see the world that black and white. There are likely many things that contribute to our changing world. Fossil fuels growth over the years is one, perhaps your blue marble has moved a percentage closer to the sun in its orbit, perhaps the area of space our solar system is in has something to do with it, perhaps it's voodoo. Okay, you get the point.

The real issue is, our climate is changing and it doesn't really matter what's causing it. It's time we just agree it's changing and we need to look at opportunities that address those things that are within our control. For the first time in our history, we have the technology to help combat what is happening to our planet. We as a species can't control everything, but there is a tremendous amount of things within our control. It's time the governments of the world and ours specifically push away the special interests, take their heads out of the sand and see what's really happening to this planet.

It's the only one we have. It's our home. If we burn it down, we have no where else to go.


Saturday, January 28, 2017

New settings

The following is a topic I've rambled about before. It's a subject near and dear to my heart and all the hearts of men out there.

Laundry...

Well actually, the settings on the machines. I'm convinced they were put there by ancient aliens, or cryptic Egyptians from the times of the Pharaohs. They make no sense in the modern world unless you own a dry cleaning business. Well, they don't use those kinds of machines in their business Robert, you say. If that's what you believe, you've been sucked into their world of lies.

Let's start with the washing machine.
There are things that say cotton, delicate, heavy, normal, light and such. Does anyone really know what these mean? I don't. The only thing I want heavy is a custard filled donut. Take 'heavy' for instance. Is that heavy once it's wet or before it goes in? It's heavier after its wet. How about cotton. Is anything really made out of cotton these days? Then there's the water settings. You can't tell how much it fills because every time you lift the lid to look inside it stops.

Now, take a step back and look at the dryer.
How come none of those setting match the ones on the washer? Ah, now you're catching on. If this wasn't a plot against all men, they should read the same. The only thing I do with the dryer is shrink My Beloved's clothing. Funny how nothing of mine shrinks. It's all made out of the same stuff.

Permanent press, delicate, more, less...how the heck am I supposed to know how long something takes to dry? The machine's manuals don't even tell you that stuff.
I need different settings on the dryer. I need plain Anglish... jeans (you put in jeans), towels ( you put in ...okay, you get the idea), men's underwear, women's things, t-shirts, sweaters, braziers (okay, I don't think I'm really supposed to put those in but I have), and the coup de gras, mixed, the magic button that lets you put everything in that you have in one load and they come out perfectly dry and the same size as when they went in.

If there is truly going to be peace between the sexes in our time, we need to start with the laundry.

Oh, I forgot about 'bedding'. Gotta have a button for bedding. Might even need a separate button for fitted sheets, but that's a whole other topic.