BOLOs vs “Shelter-in-Place” Warnings

Saw a post from a guy griping about a “shelter in place” warning issued with no specifics. His workplace is apparently in the “epicenter” of whatever event the warning was about. No specifics, he asserts, is stupid.

I agree, but here in America’s Third World County™, where violent crimes are extremely rare (probably because nearly everyone except those who work in mandated “gun free zones” such as schools is at least likely to be armed), we don’t get “shelter in place” warnings. We get BOLOs. And yeh, full descriptions, pictures of perps, if possible, as well as specifics on the crime committed. Just in case.

Because here, violent crime is pretty darned rare, and that’s real news. Oh, and because most folks aren’t pussies who need to run and hide.

Thanks, Emmys!

Award shows (all of them, not just the Emmys) do a very good job of helping me narrow my selection of TV shows to watch. The best thing on last night was actually the listing blurb describing an episode of The Orville: “Ed and Kelly are deceived by a hologram of a ship and [No, IN] distress and become held prisoner. . . ” The epi wasn’t bad, but the listing blurb was more amusing.

And then. . . another book and lights out.

As for the annual tempest in a teacup about how Emmy pseudo-entertainers dress? I just DGARA.

Names, Places Obscured to Protect the Innocent. . .

. . . (But I Sure Wish I Knew the Name of the Guilty Party)

Store worker on break, sitting on toilet. Customer comes in and stands juuust outside the stall door: “Is there a cell phone in there?”

Store worker looks around. “No.”

Guy doesn’t leave. “Are you sure there isn’t a cell phone in there?”

“I’m sure. There’s no cell phone in here.”

Guy leaves.

Guy comes back in and stands right outside the stall.

“Is there a cell phone in there?”

“No. I sold it on eBay and a portal opened up under my butt. I delivered it to the buyer via the swirlies. Now let me take a crap in peace, OK?”

OK, I made up the last part. What the store worker actaully said was, “No.” Again.

Brainless wonder replied, “Oh, sorry.”

#gagamaggot

Right in My Wheelhouse, As It Were

I’ve been reading an eARC by invitation today (the invitation consisting of a request to not[e] (Thanks Colin!) errors that “might have slipped by” editing/proofreading, and submit them via email before final publication). Most of the errors have been either homophonic (such as “peak” for “pique”) or mistakenly writing compound words as two separate words, with only a few actual word misuses not attributable to homophonic errors.

Almost all the mistakes are likely due to the writer having a larger _verbal_ vocabulary than is available in written form to the writer. This can really only be mended by more reading of well-written text by the writer. Until then, the writer is at the mercy of editors and proofreaders whose (and that was one: using “whose” when “who’s” was required) literacy may well–as seems to be the case with this eARC–be no better than the writer’s own.

Oh, and LOADS of misplaced commas, as well as just plain old everyday missing commas. VERY few comma splices, though. That’s nice.

Now, there are likely a number of problems I have not made note of for the writer, since I am NOT line-editing this book but just noting things that jump out at me. Line editing is demanding work, and I’d have to charge for that.

Appropriate Technology

For years I have seen all kinds of neat lil gadgets and hacks to aid in driving nails without smashing one’s fingers, and I chuckle at them all. The problem with hammering fingers from a missed hammer blow is caused by two factors: poor hammer technique and holding a nail “pinched” between one’s forefinger and thumb.

The “appropriate technology” for preventing smashed finger/thumb is present on almost everyone’s own hands. Simply turn the hand used to hold the nail for starting palm up and hold the nail between the index and middle fingers. Even if one misses the nail strike, a starter blow (should be a light tap) will not hit bone and fingernails directly but a cushion of flesh.

In the decades I have used this technique, since being shown by my paternal grandfather, I’ve not even had any noticeable bruising in the few times I’ve missed an initial hammer strike.

And yeh, few times. PRACTICE MAKES PERMANENT (or nearly so, at least). Practicing holding a hammer correctly, striking correctly, holding nails correctly: all these make for a much better experience, and not just in lessening injuries from missed initial hammer strikes but also in lessening fatigue during long (whatever “long” is to the user *heh*)sessions hammering nails.

Sometimes, the appropriate technology is right at the end of one’s arms.

Bush Hogging

About once a month (or so–depends), when it reaches the stage where vigorous brushing doesn’t result in a manageable mass of hair, The Beard begs to be trimmed back. (Yeh, I anthropomorphize the thing. You live with one on and off–but almost entirely on–for 40+ years and darned if you don’t, too. *heh*)

Below, just after stage one of trimming: bush hogging.

Note the “stragglies” (and the flat affect; this is after only one cuppa joe, so available facial expression is very limited). Stragglies require careful attention from barber shears. That’ll wait until after I am fully caffeinated.

BTW, this is as self-identifying as any photo of me anywhere available to the web gets, save for my DL, and it, at least, has some minor (very minor; almost non-existent) limitations on access. Other photos of me on the web (see my favicon for example) are less helpful to those seeking my face, not that anyone not suffering from some sort of traumatic brain damage wants to do so.

Rescue Kittehs

Almost two months ago, now, a young female cat showed up here at TWC Central. Thin as a rail, except for the “preggers bulge,” with a rather horrid gash on her face. She seemed to want to be friendly, but was leery of contact. I did manage to get her wound cleaned and dressed, but coming inside was. . . not happening.

So, fed her and continued wound care.

Shortly afterwards, her “preggers bulge” disappeared, so we knew what that more than likely meant.

About six weeks ago, she showed up one day with a couple of her kittens. Over the next week, another showed up. later, I briefly saw one, with a “weepy eye,” that was both VERY skittish and was definitely the runt. Only saw it one time, though. *sigh*

Today, the kittens go to a no-kill shelter, and momma cat stays with us (to be spayed shortly). Tough choice. Still, while she has turned out to be a really sweet girl, she’s not a prime adoption candidate, both from appearance (largely the wound, though it’s healed now, but also general appearance) and because she’s whole. She’ll probably never be a “pretty” cat, but she’s a sweetie.

Only one pic, right now, and that just one of the kittens.

The Problem Is Not “Islamists” or “Radical Muslims.” It’s Islam.

Muslims attack a normal American in Michigan and the writer of the linked article utters this stupid remark:

“The thing is simple, these people are not even real Muslims.”

In addition to the comma splice (yeh, I have little respect for people who failed fifth grade English because of lack of attention), the statement simply ignores the fact that Mohammed, Islam’s “perfect man,” was a mass murderer, torturer, slaver, brigand, rapist, and more, and he specifically commanded–over and over and over again–his followers to do as he did. Moreover, it is unalterable Islamic writ that is the same yesterday, today, and as long as there is one follower of The Butcher of Medina.

Real Muslims are liars, thieves, murderers, rapists and more. They HAVE to be in order to emulate their prophet and obey his commandments. Only liars and fools will say otherwise.