No, Joe, It Ain’t

In a last gasp effort to remain relevant — and, knowing Uncle Joe, to do what he feels is the right thing — our president has announced that, as far as he’s concerned, the ERA is the law of the land, the 28th Amendment, properly ratified by the states.

He’s wrong, but that didn’t stop him.

Mind you, he doesn’t actually need to be right for his announcement to matter.

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Traitor Tulsi?

If you’re paying attention, you’ve heard the rumors: Putin shill, friend to dictators, traitor to her political party, spy for America’s enemies.

Which is, I gotta say, totally nuts. No, not just the spy bit — all of it, beginning to end. For anyone who’s followed her career, she’s been nothing but consistent, and she wears her heart, and her convictions, on her sleeve for all to see.

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So There’s This Election Tomorrow…

A while ago, I decided that continuing to talk about Donald Trump would only keep giving him free press. I find him odious enough that the last thing I want to do is give him anything for free, so I simply stopped.

However, it’s now election time, and enough people have asked me that, finally, I figure it’s both safe and useful to provide the best information I can about what’s going to happen, in as unbiased a fashion as practicable, and without saying “I don’t know” too much.

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Going To the Crossroads

Some years ago, I was walking through the room while my girlfriend was watching “Supernatural”. Something about the episode caught my attention, and rather to my surprise, I sat down and watched it.

The story happened to be one I know, and know well: that of Robert Johnson, who reputedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his insane talent, playing blues guitar. Now, the television show and the legend were a bit different, and the truth of the matter is stranger still. I’ll tell you all about those in a minute.

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Why Colonize Mars?

“Because it’s there!”
-George Mallory, English mountaineer

Mars is a barren wasteland devoid of life. There’s nothing there, even less than in the average Earth desert. There is no air to breathe, no water, no arable soil on which to grow crops. It’s just a big empty ball of dust and rock.

A lot of people ask (and with good reason): Instead of wasting massive amounts of valuable resources on some dream project with no apparent value, dumping tons of CO2 into the atmosphere in the process, why not instead spend the money improving life here on Earth?

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Have you ever heard of the John J. Harvey?

I ran across this story a while ago, and it’s too good not to share. Hold fast, friends; this is quite a ride.

The John J. Harvey, shown here, is a museum ship now. For a nominal fee, you can book an excursion trip on her and experience how she rides. It’s worth the price of admission, even if she’s no longer painted in dazzle camouflage these days. (Presumably, it was so fire couldn’t find her.)

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If You Don’t Know, Shut Up

Editorial

Today, the Interwebz are full of people calling out the Olympic boxer who won by tap-out. They’re saying a transgender male has no business competing in a women-only category.

Which is, by and large, a fair statement. After all, equality only goes just so far. If we have a special protected competition for women only due to the muscle-producing effects of testosterone on the human physique, it makes perfect sense to disallow biological males. There are those who disagree with this statement, and I’m willing to discuss it.

But it does not apply here.

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Sports Desk: You’re ALL Dumbasses, Sport

“Those who fail to learn from the brutal stompings visited on them in the past are doomed to be brutally stomped in the future.”
– Raoul Duke, Christmas Eve 1972

Late last night, while I was engaged in my regular sacrifices and oblations the Great White Porcelain God Whose Name Is Ralph came a pounding on the door at the damnedest moment imaginable. They broke in, and my feeble gestures of resistance notwithstanding, they did their evil deeds and left. Imagine my shock when I recovered myself enough to stagger into the living room only to discover six cases of beer, an IBM Selectric, a recently reconnected Mojo Wire, and enough speed to charge a rhino. The Editorial Enforcement Division had visited again and caught me at a weak moment. I might have said with my pants down, but that would be an abuse of the metaphor. I’m the one being abused and I don’t want to detract from that point, so I’ll avoid the figure of speech and just get right to it.

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