Demonstrating My Point

I read a very good report by a professional journalist published on a known-to-be-liberal, even progressively liberal, website tonight.  The journalist himself is known for his progressive perspective, but his effort was to cultivate dialogue between sides, and it was very well executed in both the real world and in print.  Since I have a foot in canoes in both political streams (but not exTREMES), admittedly a political position that makes me unpopular and detested by members of both the left and the right extremists, but very popular with the middle, which makes me, in fact, part of the majority, I took the time and made the effort to acknowledge this journalist’s efforts.

Enter the intolerant mob.

Within minutes, my post of appreciation brought out demonstrations of the exact attitude of the intolerant, raving extremes, in this case (but hardly singular to their side) the rabid liberal fascists.  (Had I posted said same on a right-slanted website, I can guarantee that the rabid reactionary fascists would have done likewise.)  Those reactions gave me a chuckle, because, in their rabid, frenzied responses to my congratulatory post, the commentators demonstrated, not just their ignorance and stupidity, but their complete descent into totalitarian fascist attitudes toward those who they perceive aren’t firmly entrenched ‘on their team’.  Most notable …and saddest, in my opinion, was their exhibition of their own bigotry.  They demonstrated perfectly my point.

No Cell Reception Suddenly.

So two weeks ago, cell reception died here for both me and my flip phone (I don’t want a computer in my pocket, thanks) and for my husband’s fancy smartphone.  Wound up having to spend hours on the landline with Verizon tech support which kept bumping me up to the next level, then the next one after that.  And they wound up putting in a trouble ticket …which netted us lots of text messages until those stopped coming in, too.  Now, Forrest’s smartphone does suddenly have reception, again, but me?  Nope.  Not unless I walk or drive down to the highway.  Then it has all sorts of connection.  So, that’s where we sit.  You want to contact me?  It’s all email now until somebody figures out the problem …which, knowing how things go here, probably means next century.

Bird Washing Day

I have some birds.  All of them are re-homed here because of various health circumstances and special needs.  …Like Whacky Bird, who quite literally faints at the mere suggestion of a changed routine.  And there’s Dumpling who managed to break his wingtip off and almost bled to death when his owner let him out to play.  Since the break left a shattered bone end and the vet had to pull some magic out of her arsenal to save him, the bird was re-homed with me because he needs special care and caging.

Oldest of them all, weighing in at 26 years of age, is Regal, a magnificent, slightly odd looking critter because he suffers a condition I call Bad Cage Disease, his early years being spent in a cage whose bars were made of zinc, not plastic coated steel.   Regal has nerve damage in one foot and a ring of missing feathers around his neck, all permanent problems.  He needs special supplements …which he loves, thank you very much.  But, because of the nerve damage in his leg, he can’t perch up high.  He’s now, basically, a ground bird, except for daily cage cleaning where he jumps up, one footed to a low perch that’s barely off the cage floor.  The fact that he’s supposed to be a perching bird, not a chicken whose feathers (except for the roosters, of course) are designed to stay above the detritus, makes him prone to, (a) getting his feet covered in doo, and, (b) miring his long tail feathers and wing tips, this all despite his special bird bath which he uses daily.

So we have “bird washing day” around here where I get him on my hand, take him to the bathroom, run some warm water, and proceed to, well, wash the bird.  Then comes clipping his toenails if they need it and whacking off any tail and wing feathers that are too long to stay off the cage floor.  He doesn’t mind any of it, at all.  In fact, he revels in it.

Whacky Bird, of course, thinks this is all sorts of trauma, and, usually, when I come back from the bathroom with Regal, I’ll find her either panting like a tired locomotive, still conscious, but unable to move, or she’ll be crashed out, unconscious, on the cage floor.  (She comes to after about five minutes, and, once Regal is safely back and she can see no damage has been done to her pal, she recovers to her normal, rather obnoxious self.)  Dumpling, on the other hand, will make all sorts of sympathetic noises once Regal is returned to his cage …which, Regal, being quite proud of his coiffure and freshly bathed splendor, pointedly ignores as he preens and struts.

So, there you have it.  Bird Washing Day at Dawn’s North Idaho bird retirement home.

bird bathing

Thinks They’re Hot. They’re Not.

…What you get when you have ‘looks’, ‘sponsors’, ‘pull’, but little talent or good training.

I just listened to a bunch of performances by a self-applauding flutist of questionable talent.

Not impressed.

And, no, I won’t share name or links to their performance videos.

It makes me sad that this kind of lack of quality playing can be touted as ‘premier’.

Pernicious Impertinence

I’m part of several writing groups around the Net.  Where I used to be quite active, now, mostly, I lurk, unless the forum is absolutely private, and, even then, most of the time, I offer little input.  Why might that be?  Well, a recent incident in a private forum will illustrate one very pertinent reason.

Somebody asked a question.  Several people cautiously answered with patently safe responses, namely of asking the OP (original poster) tangential questions about aspects of their topic, a technique which neatly avoids having to actually answer.  Finally, somebody was candid enough to give an on-point answer …and immediately that person got piled on by people who hadn’t even yet participated in the thread.

Why?

Because, with typical ignominy, ‘The Collective Miffed’, as I’ll call them (and, yes, there were several), didn’t like the candor and the inherent implications that underlay the truth in that answer, namely that, if you want to target the specific demographic market that the OP was trying to reach, you have to target what that demographic market wants and avoid targeting what it doesn’t.

What caused the upset among ‘The Collective Miffed’ is that, in exposing that truth, the respondent also exposed a truism about one particular, very large demographic target market, a trusim that immediately marked books authored by ‘The Collective Miffed’ as inappropriate.

Can you say pitchforks and torches, feathers and tar?

Yep.  That’s what happened.

The respondent was labeled harmful and rude, never mind that he was the only person to lay it out the way it is.  Darn his pernicious impertinence, y’know? Give not answers of unpopular truth to the mob, but only flowers and icing, baldfaced lies, and lots and lots of steaming [*]! .

It’s Never Safe to Tell the (Unpopular) Truth when Mob Rule runs Rampant

Angry Mob of Four by Robert Couse-Baker

Angry Mob of Four by Robert Couse-Baker

 

 

 

 

Good Morning!

There are some things in life that make it worth it:

  • Good coffee.
  • Morning light as you get done with barn chores.
  • A gentle breeze.
  • A cat to stroke.
  • And, of course, watching a dog sniff out all the exciting traces of nightly visitors that happened through the yard since he last was out…

all of them appreciated sipping that cuppa while out sitting in the ‘brisk’ on the top porch step.

 

A New Series in the Making

Yes.  That’s right.  I’m writing a new fiction series.

No.  I’m not going to tell you much about it, yet.  It will be a surprise.

But I will share this: It features a female protagonist.  It’s set in today’s rural West (as in U.S. West), but, unlike Through Better & Worse and To Have & To Hold, it’s NOT a Western Family Saga, and it’s certainly not Modern Western Romance.  It’s got absolutely no profanity and no sex.  It’s got no ‘gruel’ — no gratuitous cruelty, gore, and/or barbarism.

Will you like it?  I think a lot of people will, yes.

Why am I writing it?  Because I need something in my catalog that will appeal to a broader audience than my more literary efforts.

I write good books.  But, unfortunately, what I’ve published doesn’t fit neatly into a genre.  This series will, though.  This series will fit right into one major fiction genre that people love.

More later.

Mystery Cover

 

Blog Gone Live, Again.

So, in 2019, I eradicated (as in completely removed) my blog.  You see, it wasn’t good enough to just stick it in a corner where, supposedly, nobody would find it, even completely locked down.  In fact, even setting up severe restrictions on access still threw issues because, honestly, even GoogleBot doesn’t respect ‘no admittance’ lockdowns unless you actually set things behind an .htaccess prohibition.  And doing that makes some bots just keep bumping against the door.  So, I destroyed it all in one fell swoop–SHIFT-DELETE–off the server …but not before saving years worth of posts, pages, images, etc.  I’ve reinstalled the posts and the images–the public ones, not the private ones.  And, now, there will never be anything in draft form because, guess what?, Google indexes those sitting in draft, as well, posting them to their search engine for the world to see.  Didn’t know that?  Neither did I.  It’s because Google and all the other bots actually eat of anything in a database …which is where a CMS (that’s Content Management System, for those curious) stores everything.

But Now I’m Ba-ack!

And so are all those historic posts of mine.

Shudder at will, my friends.  The self-applied muzzle is off.

Of course, it’s been replaced by an N99 anti-covid mask, but, well, that’s just thanks to a certain little virus that won’t go away and leave us alone.

Anyway, I hope you are all looking forward to me and mine, mine being my sometimes funny, sometimes serious, sometimes touching, sometimes irascible, sometimes downright obnoxious commentaries on life, living, and the state of being.

Coming to you from the North Country.

From out my office window.

Posted after Removing My Blog in 2019

I used to blog extensively. I don’t any more as you can tell by the fact that I closed my blog and put up this flat-file page instead. And, as you can tell by the dates of this flat file ‘blog’, I’ve not got a whole lot to say—at least nothing that is ‘safe’ to say. In truth, since Mom died, I’ve not had much inclination. Death has a way of damping the spirit, especially for a person who doesn’t ‘believe’ in death. I’ve tried, but communicating just doesn’t seem worth the effort, anymore, especially when everybody seems to take exception to any and everything anyone, especially me, says that they think might be offensive to them if they twist the interpretation pretzel-wise, warranted or not.

If I stick to just the facts, Ma’m, things become dry and boring. If I color them up a bit with my dry, sometimes caustic humor, somebody somewhere will take exception. If I go into down-home country talk, that offends one side, and if I go into PhD speak, that offends the other. What’s a gal… er … a person to do? Go about their business and don’t say anything at all, that’s what. Do go vote, though. And vote your conscience, not what others tell you you should think and do. THINK FOR YOURSELF and, remember, everybody out there pushing their perspective more than likely has a selfish agenda that does NOT have your best interests at heart. Follow the money and vote against that highly well-financed clamoring tide.