Category: photog’s Corner

Here you will find the stuff that shouldn’t be mixed in the other categories but interest me. caveat emptor.

Overheard in a Post Office

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, OCF, photog's Corner

I get out into the real world so infrequently that I forget there are other people still inhabiting this planet.  But today I had to send off a package and buy some stamps for Camera Girl’s Christmas cards.  I was standing in one of the lines, which thankfully no longer requires a stupid mask, and there was an elderly lady probably in her late seventies in the next line with a mask on.  I was waiting for my mail lady to finish solving some kind of partial postal differential equation so I unintentionally eavesdropped on the conversation going on in the other line.  Apparently, the postman and the old lady were acquaintances and were discussing some kind of holiday performance, possibly a play, and the man asked her whether she liked it and she said she enjoyed the way they enforced their mask mandate and social distancing.  Then she asked him if he liked the intermission speech and he rather heatedly exclaimed that no he wasn’t happy that they had preached some social justice message at him.  He said, “No, I’m done with diversity, I’ve had diversity up to here.  I don’t want to hear who or what you’re sleeping with and I certainly don’t want it creeping into the story I’m watching.”  I could see that the old lady was taken aback.  He added a few other statements about how he felt about being the target of proselytizing and then got her the stamps she wanted.

So. this is a public conversation and from a federal employee no less.  I have to say this gave me a boost.  I had to stop myself from cheering and clapping.  I’ll tell you I wish that guy had been working on my postal problems.  I know he’s got the right stuff, for a postman anyway.  So even here in Dunwich, at the nexus of all things diabolical and woke there still lives a few hardy souls who aren’t writing their pronouns on their business cards and taping “Black Lives Matter” on their car bumpers.

Just a quick anecdote but worth considering.

What Will Real Energy Innovation Look Like?

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Back when Barry Soweto pretended to be an American president, he spent his terms in office trying to convince us that solar and wind powered electric generation installations were the future of the American energy strategy.  Because he was just an actor playing a part, he can be partially excused for espousing a policy that is pathetically absurd.

If you covered the planet with wind turbines, land and sea, besides killing off the bird population of the planet you would not solve the energy problems of the human population.  Wind by itself is a fluctuating power source.  As are photo-voltaic solar panels.  On their own they will not provide the kind of consistent supply of electric power that we expect from our electrical utilities.  That is why California, the land of fruits and nuts, that despises fossil fuels, has recently installed many gas turbine generators to augment the unreliable and inadequate “renewable” wind and sun-based generation.

None of this is to say that wind and sun-based power is valueless.  In places where there is substantial wind and plentiful sunny days there is power to be harvested.  But it should be used in an intelligent manner.  Storing that energy in a recoverable form would allow it to be accumulated into a valuable commodity.  For instance, if it was the power source for an electrolytic process for separating water into hydrogen and oxygen then that hydrogen could be stored and used later as a vehicle fuel, chemical raw material or for combustion to fuel electrical generation.

Or sun and wind generated power could be used as a source of power for water desalination plants.  The output of the plant would be controlled so that at night when only wind power was available a lower out put would be maintained and likewise in the day when clouds limited the amount of solar energy available.

But with these environmental energy sources careful attention should be made to the cost of maintaining the generation infrastructure.  I have been told that the replacement cost of the solar panels had been ignored in the Obama era installation of these panels willy-nilly across the roofs of unsuspecting Americans.  Just because the government decides to “give” you something for free doesn’t mean that the cost of these items make them sensible investments.  And the cost of maintaining wind turbines also must be reckoned in the calculation of their desirability as an energy choice.

And there are other energy sources that must be explored.  Geothermal energy has only seen limited exploitation because of the scarcity of obvious geothermal hot spots.  But if resources are made available to study how a more general approach could be taken there might be great gain to be made on this front.

But the most obvious source of energy has been available to us for almost a hundred years.  Nuclear fission thermal power stations provide enormously dense energy supplies in almost limitless capacity.  The fact that there are safety and waste management challenges in such a complex and new technology is hardly surprising.  The fact that people around the world have allowed themselves to be panicked into abandoning this technology says more about the low morale of the current human population than it does about the difficulty of harnessing this amazing natural resource.  After all radioactivity is the source of the sun’s power and in fact the nuclear fusion that powers the sun is a much more technically challenging process for humans to harvest than the heat coming off of a fission pile.  To think that radioactive energy is any more mysterious than electrical or chemical energy is to be a primitive undeserving to utilize modern technology, one who should be relegated to living in a cave and warming himself by wearing furs and daubing himself with mastodon lard, too stupid to harness the frightening technology of fire.

The good news is that more confident humans at some time in the near future will return to nuclear power.  If the West fails to be the ones to do it then they will see themselves eclipsed and will deservedly sink into the lower echelons of third world nationhood.  Hopefully before that happens the modern humans among us will rally the people and admonish them to man up.

Justified Deadly Force and the Myth of Systemic Racism, by Mike Simonelli – A Book Review

photog Book Reviews, Current Events, photog's Corner, Reviews , , , , , , ,

I have known Mike Simonelli, the author of this book, for over forty years and he has always been an honest, talented and patriotic American.  After separating from the Air Force, he transferred into the US Army Reserves to serve in Iraq and Afghanistan, retiring with the rank of lieutenant colonel.  Currently as a law enforcement officer he has been dealing with the reality of trying to keep the peace in an America where everything is upside down.  The media paints the police as racist monsters intent on harming and even killing innocent black citizens.  And at the same time the media works to paint black criminals as innocent bystanders who just happen to be “in the wrong place at the wrong time” in an attempt to mask the fact that criminality is the cause of a great majority of their frequent encounters with the police.

Officer Simonelli told me that he wrote this book for two reasons.  The first is to provide a balance against the books that have appeared over the last decade that paint the false picture of the police in America as a fatally flawed product of racist objectives and behaviors.  The second reason was to provide a resource for people who need to address these false portrayals of law enforcement in America.  These may be private citizens arguing with friends and neighbors about something they heard on the news.  Or it might be an elected official who needs to dig up verifiable facts about the use of deadly force against blacks by the police.  It could even be a town police chief trying to counteract a passionate but misinformed resident at a town council meeting.  But for whatever specific need this book will serve to provide ready facts and references for the rebuttal of the endless accusations of systemic police racism as it applies to the use of deadly force against black Americans.

The majority of the book is divided into three main headings:

Part 1. Deadly Police Shootings: Racial Bias by the Press, Protestors and Politicians

This section is broken down into sub-sections on; Research Study Introduction, Literature Review Methodology and Results.

Part 2. Justified Deadly Force of Unarmed Subjects, 2019 to 2020

This section is broken down into sub-sections on; Incidents in 20219, Incidents in 2020 and Analysis.

Part 3. Felonious Line of Duty Murders of Law Enforcement Officers 2019 to 2020

This section is broken down into sub-sections on; Incidents in 20219, Incidents in 2020 and Analysis.

 

The sub-sections listed as incidents in 2019 and 2020 in both Part 2 and Part 3 are case histories for all the events under those categories that occurred in the United States.  Each death of an unarmed subject and each murdered policeman is given its own case study.  This is an enormous amount of research to back up the assertions and conclusions that Officer Simonelli makes in his book.

Obviously, I find myself in complete agreement with the conclusions of this study.  But it is extremely gratifying to have facts and figures at my disposal when debating the rabid Left or even the misinformed or uninformed among the general public.

One of the amazing facts that is highlighted in the book is that an almost complete analog to the George Floyd death occurred only this time with a white subject, a man named Tony Timpa in Texas who died under almost exactly the same circumstances and yet because he was white there was no outrage, no riots and arson, no vilification of the police and no beatification of the deceased.

Reading the case studies, especially the accounts of the murdered police officers, makes it painfully clear just what an impossible job it is to, at the same time, protect the public, minimize the risk to oneself and still avoid being accused of using unjustified or excessive force against a suspect.  And now in the current environment where immunity from civil lawsuits for police officers has been removed, I’m shocked that even larger numbers of police have not retired or resigned from the blue state and blue city jurisdictions.

As a friend, I hope a million people head over to Amazon and buy Mike Simonelli’s book.  But more importantly I hope everyone sends a link to this post to friends who they think might be interested in or helped by the facts that are documented in this book.  It really is a unique resource.

 

Justified Deadly Force and the Myth of Systemic Racism, by Mike Simonelli

 

Declassified Footage of the 1961 Soviet 50 Megaton Hydrogen Bomb (Tsar Bomba)

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If you’re interested in what the most powerful nuclear weapon ever detonated was like this 40 minute documentary will more than satisfy curiosity.  I was reading an article that stated after this detonation Edward Teller, the father of the hydrogen bomb told President Kennedy’s advisors that he was interested in producing a 10,000 megaton hydrogen bomb.  Kennedy declined. Even my bloodthirstiness might not be up to that challenge.

I will admit they knew how to do things in a big way back then.

02DEC2021 – Dunwich Complainer – Local COVID Actions

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Here in Dunwich as everywhere in America, COVID has been a scourge.  Of course, the spread and the symptoms in Dunwich are atypical and highly disturbing (as is everything here).  The disease is completely restricted to a one-mile radius around the historic home of Zebadiah Cobblestoner the legendary Whaling Fleet Magnate.

Zebadiah was known in the early nineteenth century as the whale prostate king.  His company sold pickled whale prostate throughout the New England region where its healing properties were much in demand.  And with the proceeds of this lucrative trade Zebadiah built a magnificent mansion in his native town Dunwich.  And there he lived in great opulence until the great whale prostate crash of 1841.  In that year the medical profession actually investigated the “healing effects” of whale prostate and discovered that its only effect on humans was to imbue its users with a decidedly bright blue coloration around their private parts.

Needless to say, Zebadiah’s fortunes fell on hard times.  In addition, a local witch named Hepzibah Goodbody was so outraged at the coloration she had contracted that she put a curse on Cobblestoner that not only killed him but rendered his mansion a nexus of contagion and miasma ever after.  At first this miasma was restricted to anyone foolhardy enough to inhabit Zebadiah’s mansion.  But over the years the contagion grew until now it had reached out to all the inhabitants of the formerly prestigious Toenail Hill area.  The malady starts out as general abdominal discomfort but in its terminal stage it presents as an exaggerated swelling of the lower abdomen followed by detonation of the prostate which usually leaves only the legs and upper body of the victim intact.  Surprisingly both males and females are equally afflicted in this syndrome.

Now you may be asking yourself how a nineteenth century witch’s spell that causes people to explode could be diagnosed as COVID.  Well, it turns out that the federal and state governments have provided, let us say, inducements to local governments for finding COVID cases in their areas.  And let’s face it, it’s not cheap cleaning up the biohazard when someone’s pelvic region explodes so First Selectman Cthulhu worked it out with the Dunwich Department of Health to sort of roll the Cobblestoner Curse victims in with the COVID census.

But with the recent state budget cuts the “subsidy” for the COVID cases has dried up and so the Board decided something should be done to clean up this problem.  I was contracted to do it.  And it was stressed that I could employ all means necessary.

Using satellite imagery, I was able to triangulate the source of the miasma to a corner of the Cobblestoner estate.  In fact, it turned out to be centered around Zebadiah Cobblestoner’s private cemetery.  I brought along one hundred tanker trucks, each loaded with 6,000 gallons of aqua regia which is a combination of saturated hydrochloric acid and fuming nitric acid.  My team excavated down to one hundred feet where we started to uncover a stone-like mass of enormous size finally we could see its shape was spherical with a diameter of over a thousand feet.  When we reached the bottom of this structure, we saw with horror that it was attached to the centuries dead but normal sized corpse of Zebadiah Cobblestoner.  We had uncovered his decidedly malign hypertrophied prostate bulging out of his body!

We climbed out of the excavation in a panicked rout but before following my team in a sprint for the hills I slammed the valve actuator that released the veritable lake of hyper-corrosive acid into the pit.  As I panted from the effort of escaping the scene, clouds of acrid fumes spread along the ground.  Earth tremors made it difficult to keep my legs under me but I finally reached a ridge about a mile off from the pit.  And there I witnessed a sight that has shaken my sanity and left me a shell of the man I was.

The ground around the pit convulsed and swelled.  The prostate swelled up to ten times its size and glowed a bright yellow.  Then the prostate shrank down and disappeared below ground.  But suddenly the corpse of Cobblestoner took its place swelling up to the size of the prostate and even larger.  Its face was distorted with pain and rage and I feared something truly horrible was about to occur.  All at once an enormous flatulence erupted from the nether regions of Cobblestoner.  A hurricane of unbelievably foul air stormed past me.  But almost as soon as it arrived it passed and a look of angelic peace suffused Cobblestoner’s face and then he slowly shrank back into the pit.

After a safe period of time had elapsed, I dared to return to the top of the pit.  There was no sign at all of Cobblestoner or his cursed prostate.  The area had been miraculously cleansed by the potent acids and the miasma was gone!  There are signs in the last few days that Toenail Hill is once again a healthy place.  I’ve notice that Zillow has quadrupled the value of all the local real estate and speculators have snatched up all the likeliest properties including the Cobblestoner mansion and gravel pit.

One other salubrious result of the exorcism is that for the first time since the beginning of the pandemic not a single COVID victim has exploded.  That means I’ll probably get paid for my efforts by the Town of Dunwich.  And I call that a win.

Praying Mantises, Children’s Books and Pa – Part 7 – The Next Generation

photog OCF, photog's Corner, Photography, Reclaiming the Family , , , ,

Well as Milo intimated a month ago, our rescued Mantis has laid an egg case.

Currently the proud mother is still alive although I suspect that after laying her eggs her life span may be limited.  I’ll put the egg case in a cold area for the winter and then put it outside in spring.  Princess Sack of Potatoes will probably equate this phenomenon to the story of Charlotte’s Web that we recently watched.  Well, I’ll have to say the project has really paid dividends.

Here’s mom.

29NOV2021 – OCF Update – Special Book Review

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Just received a copy of a book recently written by a very good friend of mine.  Justified Deadly Force and the Myth of Systemic Racism

 

He’s a veteran law enforcement officer and he’s put together a text book to go over the reality of the use of deadly force by police over the course of the last number of years.  I’ve just started it and will probably have several review posts about it.  The author wrote it primarily to be a text for Criminal Justice courses about the subject of deadly force.

Full disclosure, I do not receive any commission from the link.

He Restoreth My Soul

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Psalm 23 (King James Version)

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

“He restoreth my soul.”  The perfect words.  Getting together with the family, especially the grandkids did just that.  Fooling around at the pool table with my younger grandsons and watching old movies and eating absurd amounts of fattening foods and joking and laughing was “A Medicine for Melancholy.”  Camera Girl clocked multiple days of preparation and cooked up a storm.  She fell asleep exhausted last night but woke up today smiling and looking forward to the Friday sequel when even more family will be over.

I sat down and talked about current business problems with one of my sons-in-law.  He runs a medium-sized manufacturing plant and they just can’t find good help at any reasonable price.  But just telling his situation to someone who knows what he’s talking about is therapeutic and I was glad he confided in me.  Maybe I’ll figure out something that could help.  But just talking is good.  We all get wrapped up in our own problems.  We lose track of how others, even close family, are getting along or aren’t getting along.  Knowing that someone else would benefit from some small help is valuable.  We break out of our silos as they say in management speak.

How about that!  The world isn’t quite ready to collapse yet.  We’ll get to breathe and eat and laugh and cry.  There are all kinds of useful things we can do right around us even as Dementia Joe and the rest of the looters figure out new ways to degrade this once great nation.

Talk to your friends and family.  Spend time with them.  Figure out how you can help them.  Make their lives better and it’ll make your life better too.  The world doesn’t really consist just of trans-gender lunatics and critical race theory propagandists.  It consists of your family and friends and the life they have to lead.  Sure, those other things impact them and you can help to offset some of that harm with information you can provide.  But the focus is on the positive things that you do and say.  Do them.  Say them.  Because it’s the neglect of doing the things that need to be done that leaves room for the madness to creep in.

I must sound like someone hopped up on amphetamines but it’s just amazing.  The COVID isolation must have beat my soul down pretty bad.  Because the lift I got from a regular Thanksgiving get together is phenomenal.    Hopefully by Monday I’ll be able to muster up some gloom and doom.  But right now, I’m looking forward to round two.  Enjoy your long holiday weekend.

 

Here’s a repeat of Camera Girl’s Thanksgiving Turkey.  But it deserves another photo.

A Thanksgiving Wish to All My Friends

photog Americana, Current Events, photog's Corner

Thanksgiving Day 2021

Here’s a wish that today is a special day of peace and happiness to all my friends near and far.  Stay strong and never despair.  We all have things to be thankful for and better times will come again.  And enduring all that we’ve suffered at the hands of the evil and stupid will make the good times that much sweeter when they come.  Remember you’re not alone.  There are many good people out there and we will see a better day.

Happy Thanksgiving

 

Thanksgiving in Dunwich

photog Book Reviews, Humor, Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner, Reviews, Science Fiction / Fantasy, SF&F Book Reviews , , , , , , ,

I’ve been so busy with my own personal Thanksgiving plans that I lost track of what the town of Dunwich was planning for the holiday.  Last year the COVID lockdown put a damper on this but this year First Selectman Cthulhu and the rest of the Board were determined to get things back to normal.  So, to get the ball rolling Cthulhu invited fifty of the wealthiest and most influential Dunwichians to his house on Monday for a sumptuous dinner.

Of course, there was a misunderstanding.  The guests assumed they were going to eat instead of being eaten but you can hardly fault the First Selectman for that.  He was specific that the menu would come directly from his favorite cookbook, “To Serve Man.”  When I spoke to him, he was still recovering from overindulging but after a couple of barrels of Alka Seltzer he was feeling much better.  He told me his favorite moment was when the guests walked through a doorway and after failing to find any light switches on the walls used their phone lights to determine that they were inside their host’s mouth.  Their screams of terror made the meal all that much more enjoyable.  Oh, that First Selectman, he’s incorrigible!

I read an advertisement in the Dunwich Complainer that a town fair was going to take place on Wednesday.  There would be the usual pie contests and a silent auction for the various crafts that the townspeople would donate.  There were also supposed to be games.  The one that interested me the most was the sack race.  In most towns this is a pretty straight forward affair but the twist that is employed in Dunwich is that Cthulhu alters the geometry of space in the playing field.  This makes moving in a straight line rather tricky.  Three years ago, Josiah Bishop ended up falling through a portal and landed inside of Azathoth’s gallbladder.  He reappeared three weeks later in pretty horrendous condition.  His ears had pretty much melted off and his hair was orange.  When asked what happened he said, “Outside the ordered universe is that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes.”  A lot of people just assumed Josiah had just stomped off because he’s a sore loser and because Jenkin Brown took the prize and they’ve never gotten along.

But by far the oddest story I’ve heard this week was from Arthur Birdsong.  He was walking through some of the more overgrown areas of the northern hills of Dunwich when he was caught in one of the frequent thunderstorms.  Searching for cover he saw a very dilapidated house and ran to it.  The door wasn’t locked so he let himself in.  Finding a fire in the living room he warmed himself and then looked around at his surroundings.  There was a very old book open on a table and he saw that the book was describing cannibalism among certain tribes in Africa and an illustration showed a butcher’s shop with human body parts for sale.  Arms, legs and organs were grouped on tables.  Suddenly he heard a door open above and a white-haired man in 17th century garb walked down the staircase.  The man saw that Arthur had been interested in the book and he began a long meandering tale, the gist of which was that he had come to the notion that feeding on human flesh would enormously extend the human lifespan.  Just then a drop of blood from the ceiling splashed down in between the two men and Arthur looked up and saw an enormous spot of blood on the ceiling and realized that the horrid old man was a cannibal and had just been butchering of one of his victims upstairs.

At first Arthur was hoping that a bolt of lightning would burn the house and the cannibal in the righteous fire of heaven.  But when that failed to happen, he asked the old man what time was dinner.

Arthur had to admit that human pot pie wasn’t bad.  A little gamey and fatty but no worse than mutton.  And the old fellow even threw in some pretty decent hard cider.  So, they became pretty chummy and after dinner they stayed up late chatting and Arthur discovered that they had both gone to the same prep school.  So, they sang school songs and Arthur invited his new friend over for Thanksgiving dinner.  He had been planning to serve a turkey dinner but in light of his new perspective on health food he decided to invite his least favorite blue-haired feminist wine-auntie over and serve her up instead.  I told Arthur that was splendid and I hoped it became a family tradition.  He sadly informed me that he only had three wine-aunties so it would be a short-lived tradition.  I told him to cheer up.  I have dozens of relatives that need eating.  I told him I’d donate one of mine every Thanksgiving for the foreseeable future.  Well, this brought tears to Arthur’s eyes and he declared it a “Thanksgiving Miracle.”  I said, “Nonsense, it is always better to give than to receive.”

So, you can see we here in Dunwich have a lot to be thankful for; friends, family and meat tenderizer.  Here’s hoping your Thanksgiving allows you to enjoy your family as much as we intend to enjoy (parts of) ours.