Like I said, the more universally recognized term is "horse play", but it has various local names in different subcultures. I seem to remember that my mother used to call it "rough housing". I only heard it called "grab ass" in the army, and the grabbing of asses is only one of the many behaviors associated with this activity. It's probably called "horse play" because young horses do it when they are horsing around. The young of other species also do it, lambs, puppies, and kittens immediately come to mind. It's cute when they do it, but not so cute when people do it.
The first dog I remember, a big collie/shepherd cross, wouldn't allow it, and we used to stage mock fights for his benefit because it was quite impressive to see him intervene. Laddie would first position himself between the combatants and lean on the one that he believed to be the aggressor, which was generally the larger child, or the male if one of the contestants was a female. If that didn't work, Laddie would take the aggressor's wrist in his mouth, gently at first, and try to lead him away. If the aggressor resisted, Laddie would gradually increase his jaw pressure on the guy's wrist until he complied. I suppose that, in the event of a real fight, Laddie would have done whatever he deemed necessary to defend the weaker party, but we never pushed it that far. Like I said, he was a big dog, about 90 pounds, and nobody wanted to see him get really upset.
I have known people in my life who didn't seem to distinguish between truth and falsehood, or fantasy and reality, it was all the same to them. If you catch them in a lie and call them on it, they don't seem to understand what you're talking about. Maybe that's Trump's problem. It sounds like Hillary is just being a politician. The reason politicians do that stuff is because it works.
There are two locust tree species that I know of. They both have two rows of small leaves arranged opposite each other on long stems. The one with the long seed pods is the honey locust, and the one with the short seed pods is the black locust.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Subjective reality
Another fine train of thought, courtesy of Uncle Ken: Objective reality. Okay, makes sense to me. But objective reality can only take us so far; most of what I read about current events is from sources that I cannot directly verify and I have to make a judgement call depending on the reliability and reputation of those sources.
That's a big problem with the Internet Swamp (TM). Who do you trust? There are more than a billion web sites and regardless of how loopy your ideas are there will be sites to support them, I'm sure.
So just for a laugh, I did a search (Google) for "three legged purple frogs" and there were 157,000 results. A search for "2016 election conspiracy" yields more than 31 million results.
Uncle Ken is correct in his assessment of the Cheeto fueled echo chamber, but that doesn't mean they are always wrong. I suspect that many people search for sites that agree with them, and fail to investigate further for any contrary views. If I really want to learn something I'll use different search engines and, in some cases, different browsers, never trusting any one single source. Or I will discuss it with someone whose judgement I can trust, always considering the source.
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Although PumpkinHead makes many false statements, I don't think he's actually lying. He believes, in my opinion, that whatever he says is the truth. He may contradict himself fifteen minutes later but, in his mind, that is also the truth. He is not know for knowledge of the facts, or any level of introspection; he listens to his gut and his sense of reality is very fluid. You could call it lying but I would call it outspoken delusional nonsense.
The Big Girl's habit of misdirection and deception come closer to the spirit of lying, as she knows exactly what she is saying. She is not misinformed or ignorant of the facts. Her use of smoke and mirrors is brilliant, something she may have picked up from her hubby, who did not have sexual relations with "that woman." By his definition, he didn't.
In any case, I don't think that either of these two candidates are worthy of the office of president. The best case scenario for me is that they are both indicted and taken off the ballots, but that is wishful thinking. It's surprising that with all this negativity on both sides that Ben & Jerry aren't getting more traction, and may not be in any debates. But time will tell.
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I'll stick my neck out and state that the Institute is Pro-Tree. Agreed? I didn't know that the Indian cigar trees were catalpas. There was another tree that had long, dark seedpods; don't know the name...something-Locust, maybe? We had a mulberry tree in the backyard at one time, but it was very messy when the ripe berries dropped to the ground and you stepped on them and happened to track them into the house. Mom put her foot down, and that tree was history. You can still see purple stains on the sidewalks of that neighborhood when the mulberries are in season.
A couple of families on the block had grape arbors and made their own wine, and another family had a pear tree (but no partridges). They were always giving away pears; amazing how much a single tree yields. But they never ripened properly and were hard as a rock and tasted terrible. Even the squirrels didn't like them.
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Isn't grab ass a variant of horseplay? That's my recollection of barracks behavior; folks were always screwing around and pranks abounded. But it was usually between a group of friends who were always giving each other a hard time. Good-natured fun, in their eyes, and most of the time nobody got hurt.
I recall talking shit "for entertainment value" very well, as it was a common pastime. Everybody loved a good story, and the facts didn't matter that much as long as the storyteller spun a good yarn. Some folks were very good, and I imagine they became salesmen when they got out of the army. Or lawyers.
That's a big problem with the Internet Swamp (TM). Who do you trust? There are more than a billion web sites and regardless of how loopy your ideas are there will be sites to support them, I'm sure.
So just for a laugh, I did a search (Google) for "three legged purple frogs" and there were 157,000 results. A search for "2016 election conspiracy" yields more than 31 million results.
Uncle Ken is correct in his assessment of the Cheeto fueled echo chamber, but that doesn't mean they are always wrong. I suspect that many people search for sites that agree with them, and fail to investigate further for any contrary views. If I really want to learn something I'll use different search engines and, in some cases, different browsers, never trusting any one single source. Or I will discuss it with someone whose judgement I can trust, always considering the source.
-----
Although PumpkinHead makes many false statements, I don't think he's actually lying. He believes, in my opinion, that whatever he says is the truth. He may contradict himself fifteen minutes later but, in his mind, that is also the truth. He is not know for knowledge of the facts, or any level of introspection; he listens to his gut and his sense of reality is very fluid. You could call it lying but I would call it outspoken delusional nonsense.
The Big Girl's habit of misdirection and deception come closer to the spirit of lying, as she knows exactly what she is saying. She is not misinformed or ignorant of the facts. Her use of smoke and mirrors is brilliant, something she may have picked up from her hubby, who did not have sexual relations with "that woman." By his definition, he didn't.
In any case, I don't think that either of these two candidates are worthy of the office of president. The best case scenario for me is that they are both indicted and taken off the ballots, but that is wishful thinking. It's surprising that with all this negativity on both sides that Ben & Jerry aren't getting more traction, and may not be in any debates. But time will tell.
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I'll stick my neck out and state that the Institute is Pro-Tree. Agreed? I didn't know that the Indian cigar trees were catalpas. There was another tree that had long, dark seedpods; don't know the name...something-Locust, maybe? We had a mulberry tree in the backyard at one time, but it was very messy when the ripe berries dropped to the ground and you stepped on them and happened to track them into the house. Mom put her foot down, and that tree was history. You can still see purple stains on the sidewalks of that neighborhood when the mulberries are in season.
A couple of families on the block had grape arbors and made their own wine, and another family had a pear tree (but no partridges). They were always giving away pears; amazing how much a single tree yields. But they never ripened properly and were hard as a rock and tasted terrible. Even the squirrels didn't like them.
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Isn't grab ass a variant of horseplay? That's my recollection of barracks behavior; folks were always screwing around and pranks abounded. But it was usually between a group of friends who were always giving each other a hard time. Good-natured fun, in their eyes, and most of the time nobody got hurt.
I recall talking shit "for entertainment value" very well, as it was a common pastime. Everybody loved a good story, and the facts didn't matter that much as long as the storyteller spun a good yarn. Some folks were very good, and I imagine they became salesmen when they got out of the army. Or lawyers.
objective reality
I guess I am still a little confused about grabbing ass. What sort of specific physical manifestation does it refer to: actual grabbing of ass, goosing, punching the shoulder? I can't say that I remember it from my youth, and what I saw in the schools as a sub was of the play-fighting variety.
I don't know nothing about no trees neither. In grade school they made us keep leaf books, which were, well, books of leaves, an elm leaf, a maple, an oak. Pausing at the keys here I am at a loss for other kind of trees, Oh wait catalpa trees! Why aren't all trees catalpa trees? Nice fragrant flowers and those cool Indian cigars. I suppose with all their showy hijinks though that they are maybe not as hardy as the boring oaks, maples, and elms. Well and fruit trees of course, and evergreens, or as I call them, Christmas trees. In Austin they had a lot of pecan trees so that people would walk through the neighborhoods picking them up off the street.
I thought there would be more interest in the internet swamp that I referenced in my earlier post. Whenever I do Institute related internet research, I come across, amid the staid, stodgy, useful sources, some wild shit, Here are the stories that They, not the They that Beagles speaks of,who are running everything and trying to get us to believe things so that They can pursue their nefarious plans but the other They, the They who are wise to the way of They and are bringing you the stories that They don't want you to hear about. I assume that They make all their plans in posh drawing rooms amid brandy and cigars. While They, who are unmasking They, do theirs in Their parents' basements amid Cheeto crumbs.
Anyway They all post each other's posts onto their pitiful blogs, so it is like an echo chamber and to the unwary internet traveler it is likely to appear that here is something that everybody is talking about so maybe there is something going on here.
From much earlier discussions of The Institute I think we have agreed that there is an objective reality that all can agree on. If I say there is a mighty oak fifty feet tall in my backyard, this can easily be confirmed by going into my backyard and seeing for yourselves. Since I know this, I am unlikely to claim that the tree is sixty feet high, knowing that I can easily be disproved by a visit to my backyard.
See here is the difference between the big girl and the carrot top. Hilary claims she did no wrong with her email because of this and that and if you follow it through there is no outright lie, but there is a continual bending of truth and a maze of misdirection. Trump claims that thousands of muslims were cheering from the rooftops of New Jersey even though there are no reports of that happening. Trump simply insists that he saw it, and people who say otherwise are liars.
I maintain that there is a difference between bending the truth and outright lying, and that bending the truth is better, because it doesn't deny objective reality. As long as we have objective reality we can discuss and reason, but once we abandon it we are savages squealing in the swamp.
As members of a forum for reasonable discussion among reasonable people we should all find the development of the internet swamp and rise of Carrot Top alarming.
I don't know nothing about no trees neither. In grade school they made us keep leaf books, which were, well, books of leaves, an elm leaf, a maple, an oak. Pausing at the keys here I am at a loss for other kind of trees, Oh wait catalpa trees! Why aren't all trees catalpa trees? Nice fragrant flowers and those cool Indian cigars. I suppose with all their showy hijinks though that they are maybe not as hardy as the boring oaks, maples, and elms. Well and fruit trees of course, and evergreens, or as I call them, Christmas trees. In Austin they had a lot of pecan trees so that people would walk through the neighborhoods picking them up off the street.
I thought there would be more interest in the internet swamp that I referenced in my earlier post. Whenever I do Institute related internet research, I come across, amid the staid, stodgy, useful sources, some wild shit, Here are the stories that They, not the They that Beagles speaks of,who are running everything and trying to get us to believe things so that They can pursue their nefarious plans but the other They, the They who are wise to the way of They and are bringing you the stories that They don't want you to hear about. I assume that They make all their plans in posh drawing rooms amid brandy and cigars. While They, who are unmasking They, do theirs in Their parents' basements amid Cheeto crumbs.
Anyway They all post each other's posts onto their pitiful blogs, so it is like an echo chamber and to the unwary internet traveler it is likely to appear that here is something that everybody is talking about so maybe there is something going on here.
From much earlier discussions of The Institute I think we have agreed that there is an objective reality that all can agree on. If I say there is a mighty oak fifty feet tall in my backyard, this can easily be confirmed by going into my backyard and seeing for yourselves. Since I know this, I am unlikely to claim that the tree is sixty feet high, knowing that I can easily be disproved by a visit to my backyard.
See here is the difference between the big girl and the carrot top. Hilary claims she did no wrong with her email because of this and that and if you follow it through there is no outright lie, but there is a continual bending of truth and a maze of misdirection. Trump claims that thousands of muslims were cheering from the rooftops of New Jersey even though there are no reports of that happening. Trump simply insists that he saw it, and people who say otherwise are liars.
I maintain that there is a difference between bending the truth and outright lying, and that bending the truth is better, because it doesn't deny objective reality. As long as we have objective reality we can discuss and reason, but once we abandon it we are savages squealing in the swamp.
As members of a forum for reasonable discussion among reasonable people we should all find the development of the internet swamp and rise of Carrot Top alarming.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Grab Ass
That's what the kids called it, "play fighting", and it seldom escalated into real fighting. They called it "grab ass" in the army, and it was not allowed inside the barracks for safety reasons. A few of my high school friends did it to each other, but not to me, because I told them in no uncertain terms that I wanted no part of it and, if they insisted on doing it to me, they would no longer be my friends. If they did it to each other in my parents' house, I would tell them to take it outside, and they did, because they knew that, if they didn't, they would no longer be allowed in my parents' house. My parents didn't tell them that, I told them that. I don't remember a lot of that going on at Sawyer, but maybe I just wasn't paying attention.
There was some of it at the paper mill, and I once bid off of a crew to get away from it. It wasn't a problem on my new crew but, years later, during our sexual harassment training, I asked if homosexual harassment was prohibited the same as heterosexual harassment. I was told that any unwanted touching is defined as sexual harassment, regardless of the gender of the harasser or the harrassee. "Thank you," I said, "That's all I wanted to know", and nobody in the paper mill ever touched me again. The stuff they did in the Cheboygan schools didn't seem to have a sexual component to it, but maybe it was a manifestation of their suppressed sexuality. The gender of the participants didn't seem to matter, boys did it to boys, girls did it to girls, and boys and girls did it to each other.
"Mouthing off" included wise-cracking, but it also included "talking back" to a teacher or other adult. In the army, where it was also referred to as "talking shit", it included making mock threats for entertainment purposes, or pretending to be knowledgeable about something when you didn't know what you were talking about.
I don't care what Trump and Hillary say anymore, or what other people say about them. I already know who I'm voting for, and it's neither of them.
I am not familiar with the English oak, but most oaks are relatively slow growing trees. The growth rate of any tree, however, is influenced by genetics, climate, soil fertility, and availability of water and sunlight. When I first bought Beaglesonia back in 1986, there were a few widely dispersed red oaks on the property. Since then, little baby oaks have been sprouting up all over like dandelions. I don't know how that can be, since "The acorn never falls very far from the tree." The only theory I can come up with is that birds and squirrels carry them away and then lose them. I try to encourage my oaks like I do with my feral apple trees. Most of them will never produce acorns in my lifetime, but someday somebody is going to have a really good squirrel woods here, if somebody doesn't wreck it after I am gone.
There was some of it at the paper mill, and I once bid off of a crew to get away from it. It wasn't a problem on my new crew but, years later, during our sexual harassment training, I asked if homosexual harassment was prohibited the same as heterosexual harassment. I was told that any unwanted touching is defined as sexual harassment, regardless of the gender of the harasser or the harrassee. "Thank you," I said, "That's all I wanted to know", and nobody in the paper mill ever touched me again. The stuff they did in the Cheboygan schools didn't seem to have a sexual component to it, but maybe it was a manifestation of their suppressed sexuality. The gender of the participants didn't seem to matter, boys did it to boys, girls did it to girls, and boys and girls did it to each other.
"Mouthing off" included wise-cracking, but it also included "talking back" to a teacher or other adult. In the army, where it was also referred to as "talking shit", it included making mock threats for entertainment purposes, or pretending to be knowledgeable about something when you didn't know what you were talking about.
I don't care what Trump and Hillary say anymore, or what other people say about them. I already know who I'm voting for, and it's neither of them.
I am not familiar with the English oak, but most oaks are relatively slow growing trees. The growth rate of any tree, however, is influenced by genetics, climate, soil fertility, and availability of water and sunlight. When I first bought Beaglesonia back in 1986, there were a few widely dispersed red oaks on the property. Since then, little baby oaks have been sprouting up all over like dandelions. I don't know how that can be, since "The acorn never falls very far from the tree." The only theory I can come up with is that birds and squirrels carry them away and then lose them. I try to encourage my oaks like I do with my feral apple trees. Most of them will never produce acorns in my lifetime, but someday somebody is going to have a really good squirrel woods here, if somebody doesn't wreck it after I am gone.
Urbs in hortis
City services have improved since the days of the Dutch Elm disease. All of the replacement trees for the beetle infestation are doing well, planted at the proper depth.
I was surprised at the replacement protocol. The city provided a list (with full descriptions) of trees, shrubs, and ground cover you could choose from, and it was quite varied. You could pick more than one, depending on the size and number of trees that were removed.
We lost two maple trees, and because of their size we were entitled to five replacements. The yard wasn't big enough to support that many trees and more shrubs or groundcover would have been too labor intensive for dear old Mom. I looked at the list, seeking the tallest (at maturity) tree available and found the English Oak, which should be eighty feet tall in another fifty years or so.
It looked puny when planted, less than 12 feet tall maybe, but I took good care of it in the early years with plenty of water and fertilizer tree spikes. It grew like crazy and started producing acorns after a couple of years, with a perfectly triangular canopy. The local squirrels must have been pleased.
The property was sold six years ago, so I lost track of it's progress although I do see it once in a while when I use the alley as a shortcut to the hardware store. The new owner must not be watering it sufficiently, as some leaves were yellowing.last summer. This year it's doing fine, nearly reaching the roof line of the 3-flat.
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Is mouthing off the same as wise-cracking? Some of us use to crack wise all the time, but only with the new teachers, fresh out of college. They always took it in good humor, responding with an eye roll or a snappy comeback. Anything for a laugh, in those days. It stopped being fun when the teachers became wittier than us class clowns and we just looked stupid. Not in the curriculum, but it taught us high schoolers something.
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Responsibility is in very short supply in this election cycle, and both major candidates are too old to change, I think. Their core behavior is fixed and I don't anticipate any "come to Jesus" moments from either one.
I like snakes, but not when they walk on two legs.
I was surprised at the replacement protocol. The city provided a list (with full descriptions) of trees, shrubs, and ground cover you could choose from, and it was quite varied. You could pick more than one, depending on the size and number of trees that were removed.
We lost two maple trees, and because of their size we were entitled to five replacements. The yard wasn't big enough to support that many trees and more shrubs or groundcover would have been too labor intensive for dear old Mom. I looked at the list, seeking the tallest (at maturity) tree available and found the English Oak, which should be eighty feet tall in another fifty years or so.
It looked puny when planted, less than 12 feet tall maybe, but I took good care of it in the early years with plenty of water and fertilizer tree spikes. It grew like crazy and started producing acorns after a couple of years, with a perfectly triangular canopy. The local squirrels must have been pleased.
The property was sold six years ago, so I lost track of it's progress although I do see it once in a while when I use the alley as a shortcut to the hardware store. The new owner must not be watering it sufficiently, as some leaves were yellowing.last summer. This year it's doing fine, nearly reaching the roof line of the 3-flat.
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Is mouthing off the same as wise-cracking? Some of us use to crack wise all the time, but only with the new teachers, fresh out of college. They always took it in good humor, responding with an eye roll or a snappy comeback. Anything for a laugh, in those days. It stopped being fun when the teachers became wittier than us class clowns and we just looked stupid. Not in the curriculum, but it taught us high schoolers something.
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Responsibility is in very short supply in this election cycle, and both major candidates are too old to change, I think. Their core behavior is fixed and I don't anticipate any "come to Jesus" moments from either one.
I like snakes, but not when they walk on two legs.
the swamps of the internet
I was a big mouther offer in high school. I got in trouble for it sometimes, but it was worth it if I could get a laugh. That was a big disappointment to me in college. Nobody mouthed off. What did those hoity toity suburban school kids do for fun? I remember in study hall every now and then somebody would let loose with a moo, and others would join in so that whatever poor fool was in charge of the study hall couldn't tell where it was coming from. Those big college lecture halls would have been perfect places for mooing, but I never heard any.
I don't know about Cheboygan but when I was subbing in Chicago, kids mouthing off at each other (because every comment had to be answered with another comment or a poke) was a way bigger problem than kids mouthing off at the teacher. At least if they were mouthing off at the teacher it was something the teacher could deal with rather than five or ten little fights all over the classroom, so it was like the teacher wasn't even there.
I wonder about these Chegoygan kids touching each other. What form did that take? Was it like play fighting that half the time escalated into real fighting?
Well what else is new? There have been complaints about all this Trump coverage, and I may have made some of them, but it seems like there is not much going on in the news without his mouthing off. There are his two new wacky campaign managers and now this flip flop followed by a flop flip on immigration, but on the other hand there is all this Hillary crap, which to my mind is not that big a deal but for her constant lying about it. Why can't she just say she did it and it was wrong but now she is accepting responsibility.
Then there is this health thing. I suppose it was always brewing in the swamps of the internet, well all sorts of things are always brewing there, but it hadn't reached the clean air of the lamestream media until just lately, where some of these Trump surrogates have been drumming it up.
Let me say something about Trump surrogates. When other candidates have surrogates they are former officeholders or members of the press, people you have heard about before, so they have a little respectability, a little something to lose if they say something crazy. But the Trump surrogates are people you have never heard of before, they have no respectability and nothing to lose so they'll say anything, so lately they have been dredging up this sick Hilary junk from the swamps of the internet, and presenting it like it is a discussion between reasonable people (ahem) while in reality it is a fevered dream from the swamps with grainy videos and no documentation.
For awhile there Hilary was soaring in the polls and I was all like well, I knew all along that everybody, well most of the people, would come to their senses eventually, but lately she has been slipping in the polls and I have to admit that I have no idea of what is going on.
I don't know about Cheboygan but when I was subbing in Chicago, kids mouthing off at each other (because every comment had to be answered with another comment or a poke) was a way bigger problem than kids mouthing off at the teacher. At least if they were mouthing off at the teacher it was something the teacher could deal with rather than five or ten little fights all over the classroom, so it was like the teacher wasn't even there.
I wonder about these Chegoygan kids touching each other. What form did that take? Was it like play fighting that half the time escalated into real fighting?
Well what else is new? There have been complaints about all this Trump coverage, and I may have made some of them, but it seems like there is not much going on in the news without his mouthing off. There are his two new wacky campaign managers and now this flip flop followed by a flop flip on immigration, but on the other hand there is all this Hillary crap, which to my mind is not that big a deal but for her constant lying about it. Why can't she just say she did it and it was wrong but now she is accepting responsibility.
Then there is this health thing. I suppose it was always brewing in the swamps of the internet, well all sorts of things are always brewing there, but it hadn't reached the clean air of the lamestream media until just lately, where some of these Trump surrogates have been drumming it up.
Let me say something about Trump surrogates. When other candidates have surrogates they are former officeholders or members of the press, people you have heard about before, so they have a little respectability, a little something to lose if they say something crazy. But the Trump surrogates are people you have never heard of before, they have no respectability and nothing to lose so they'll say anything, so lately they have been dredging up this sick Hilary junk from the swamps of the internet, and presenting it like it is a discussion between reasonable people (ahem) while in reality it is a fevered dream from the swamps with grainy videos and no documentation.
For awhile there Hilary was soaring in the polls and I was all like well, I knew all along that everybody, well most of the people, would come to their senses eventually, but lately she has been slipping in the polls and I have to admit that I have no idea of what is going on.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Mouthing Off
I'm pretty sure that the classroom rule that said "Keep your hands, feet, and comments to yourself." was meant to discourage kids from mouthing off in class. It was a poorly written rule because the "comments" part had nothing to do with the "hands and feet" part. Almost every classroom had a rule about keeping your hands to yourself, and some of them extended the jurisdiction to feet and other body parts. The "comments" part was a separate issue that should have been covered by a separate rule. It was common practice among Cheboygan students to interrupt their teacher's presentation with random sarcastic comments. This would have been frowned upon in Sawyer Elementary or Gage Park High, and I was surprised to see how tolerant many Cheboygan teachers were of the practice. This teacher was likely not so tolerant of it and was trying to suppress the behavior.
I don't remember Chicago kids being as prone to touching each other as the Cheboygan kids. They usually did it in a playful manner, and I don't remember many real fights starting that way. I don't think it was sexual, although they might have been doing it instead of sex. I know that it usually got them excited, sometimes to the point of hysteria, but it didn't seem like sexual excitement. Back in my day, you didn't touch somebody like that unless you wanted to fight them or fuck them, and I never did get used to it. Like I said, almost every classroom had a rule against it, and most of the bus drivers tried to suppress it, with varying degrees of success. It's dangerous for people to get that excited in a moving motor vehicle or any other confined space, and I was surprised that more kids didn't get hurt fooling around like that.
I seldom mouthed off in class, even in my stupid year. If I wanted to say something I raised my hand like I was supposed to do. I have been told, by people outside of school, that I was a mouthy kid but, in those days, there were still lots of adults who believed that "Children should be seen and not heard." Old Dog's comment about the trees in Chicago dying off and needing to be replaced reminds me of the big Dutch Elm Disease epidemic. We didn't have many elms in our neighborhood, but some sections of the city did, and they were all dying from Dutch Elm Disease. At some point, the city decided to remove all those elms, sick or not, and replace them with maples. Walking home from Sawyer Elementary one day, I came upon a city crew that was cutting down all the trees on a particular block, even though none of them were elms. I asked one of the workers about it, and he said that those trees were all sick, or soon would be, and they had to come out. I asked him if he was referring to the Dutch Elm Disease, and he said that he was. I politely pointed out to him that the Dutch Elm Disease affected only elm trees, of which there were none in sight, and that the tree he had just cut down was a healthy Lombardy poplar. At that point he called me a "mouthy kid" and refused to talk to me any longer.
Some months later, a different crew came along planting maple trees that had been reared in a city nursery. I could see that they weren't planting them deep enough, and I told them so, but they didn't listen to me. When I got home, I replanted the couple of trees that they had put by our house, and they were the only ones on our block to survive. Later, as their trees started to list and lean, some of our neighbors tried to prop them up with sticks and wires. I told them that it would be more effective to dig them in deeper like I did with ours, but they didn't listen to me either. I may have been a mouthy kid, but my trees lived and theirs all died. So there!
I don't remember Chicago kids being as prone to touching each other as the Cheboygan kids. They usually did it in a playful manner, and I don't remember many real fights starting that way. I don't think it was sexual, although they might have been doing it instead of sex. I know that it usually got them excited, sometimes to the point of hysteria, but it didn't seem like sexual excitement. Back in my day, you didn't touch somebody like that unless you wanted to fight them or fuck them, and I never did get used to it. Like I said, almost every classroom had a rule against it, and most of the bus drivers tried to suppress it, with varying degrees of success. It's dangerous for people to get that excited in a moving motor vehicle or any other confined space, and I was surprised that more kids didn't get hurt fooling around like that.
I seldom mouthed off in class, even in my stupid year. If I wanted to say something I raised my hand like I was supposed to do. I have been told, by people outside of school, that I was a mouthy kid but, in those days, there were still lots of adults who believed that "Children should be seen and not heard." Old Dog's comment about the trees in Chicago dying off and needing to be replaced reminds me of the big Dutch Elm Disease epidemic. We didn't have many elms in our neighborhood, but some sections of the city did, and they were all dying from Dutch Elm Disease. At some point, the city decided to remove all those elms, sick or not, and replace them with maples. Walking home from Sawyer Elementary one day, I came upon a city crew that was cutting down all the trees on a particular block, even though none of them were elms. I asked one of the workers about it, and he said that those trees were all sick, or soon would be, and they had to come out. I asked him if he was referring to the Dutch Elm Disease, and he said that he was. I politely pointed out to him that the Dutch Elm Disease affected only elm trees, of which there were none in sight, and that the tree he had just cut down was a healthy Lombardy poplar. At that point he called me a "mouthy kid" and refused to talk to me any longer.
Some months later, a different crew came along planting maple trees that had been reared in a city nursery. I could see that they weren't planting them deep enough, and I told them so, but they didn't listen to me. When I got home, I replanted the couple of trees that they had put by our house, and they were the only ones on our block to survive. Later, as their trees started to list and lean, some of our neighbors tried to prop them up with sticks and wires. I told them that it would be more effective to dig them in deeper like I did with ours, but they didn't listen to me either. I may have been a mouthy kid, but my trees lived and theirs all died. So there!
growing up in the lost city
We Methodists were outliers in the old hood where the action was taking place inside that big old St Galls church where all kind of whatnot was going on, They had the legacy of Rome and the Romans were lawmakers, so they had a legal procedure for getting into Heaven, and part of that was being without sin, and they could wipe that slate clean whenever they wanted, This didn't seem quite right to us Methodists. It seemed too well, pat. But we envied it a bit. The message from the Methodist preachers seemed to me was that as long as you weren't an axe murderer, and you went to church reasonably often enough, and were polite enough, you would be issued a harp. But the procedure was never spelled out as clearly in Elsdon as it was at St Galls.
I've never been in the army and Beagles has never been to college. I don't know what to make of the idea that the army was more like real life than school. College is nothing like grade or elementary school. Well it was a little like them, there was homework and grades, and I don't know, I thought there would be more of sitting around and discussing Great Ideas (in high school the only ideas that could be discussed were the ones that everybody else already believed.). but there wasn't much of that. There was this fear of flunking out, there were rumors of this or that (particularly rhetoric) class being designed to flunk people out, so a lot of that time that could have been spent discussing Great Ideas was spent studying for that chemistry test because a B in chemistry would offset that D that was surely coming in German and keep you from flunking out.
But if we didn't spend a lot of time discussing Great Ideas we did have a lot of freedom. Hell we could do whatever we wanted, we could skip class or sleep in it, none of our teachers cared. They could flunk us out, but they never told us what to do. The army seemed the worst thing that could happen to me. It wasn't so much getting killed in the unpopular war, I thought the army would realize that i was a smart cookie and put me in some cushy job. I was probably wrong about that. But it was wearing the damn uniform, having to have my buttons polished and my shoes shined, having to salute those officers, the knowledge that at any time some dickwad could order me to do pushups, and I liked to mouth off, which was kind of fun at Gage Park High, but I didn't think it would go over so well in the army. Beagles and Old Dog tell me that it wasn't that bad. Still neither of them reenlisted.
The comments part of those classroom rules, especially in light of the juxtaposition with hands and feet, was probably not a proscription about commenting on the issues of the day, as Beagles surmises, but of insulting your classmates, leading to the use of hands and feet.
Beagles and I well remember white flight because it happened in Gage Park. Well not quite in Gage Park, more to the east and maybe to the south, somewhere out there they were moving towards us block by block, and if we didn't sell today we would have to sell later for a pittance, or worse yet end up living among them fearing daily for our lives, Actually even that didn't happen until after we had joined the army and the college and we heard about it secondhand.
There was the prisoners dilemma thing. If you all stand pat, then you win, on the other hand if your neighbor doesn't hang tough you lose big, but if you turn before he does you end up not so bad off. Of course this sounds terrible because your normally laudable solidarity with your neighbors comes about because you are being solid against black people, which is, well, racism.
Old Dog speaks of a mix in the neighborhood, and sure there was a mix of everybody who wasn't black, but living in the bungalow belt, there was a remarkable similarity in income. Nobody really rich and nobody really poor, and even if there was some disparity in income it wasn't that noticeable because everybody lived in the same damn kind of house.
I've never been in the army and Beagles has never been to college. I don't know what to make of the idea that the army was more like real life than school. College is nothing like grade or elementary school. Well it was a little like them, there was homework and grades, and I don't know, I thought there would be more of sitting around and discussing Great Ideas (in high school the only ideas that could be discussed were the ones that everybody else already believed.). but there wasn't much of that. There was this fear of flunking out, there were rumors of this or that (particularly rhetoric) class being designed to flunk people out, so a lot of that time that could have been spent discussing Great Ideas was spent studying for that chemistry test because a B in chemistry would offset that D that was surely coming in German and keep you from flunking out.
But if we didn't spend a lot of time discussing Great Ideas we did have a lot of freedom. Hell we could do whatever we wanted, we could skip class or sleep in it, none of our teachers cared. They could flunk us out, but they never told us what to do. The army seemed the worst thing that could happen to me. It wasn't so much getting killed in the unpopular war, I thought the army would realize that i was a smart cookie and put me in some cushy job. I was probably wrong about that. But it was wearing the damn uniform, having to have my buttons polished and my shoes shined, having to salute those officers, the knowledge that at any time some dickwad could order me to do pushups, and I liked to mouth off, which was kind of fun at Gage Park High, but I didn't think it would go over so well in the army. Beagles and Old Dog tell me that it wasn't that bad. Still neither of them reenlisted.
The comments part of those classroom rules, especially in light of the juxtaposition with hands and feet, was probably not a proscription about commenting on the issues of the day, as Beagles surmises, but of insulting your classmates, leading to the use of hands and feet.
Beagles and I well remember white flight because it happened in Gage Park. Well not quite in Gage Park, more to the east and maybe to the south, somewhere out there they were moving towards us block by block, and if we didn't sell today we would have to sell later for a pittance, or worse yet end up living among them fearing daily for our lives, Actually even that didn't happen until after we had joined the army and the college and we heard about it secondhand.
There was the prisoners dilemma thing. If you all stand pat, then you win, on the other hand if your neighbor doesn't hang tough you lose big, but if you turn before he does you end up not so bad off. Of course this sounds terrible because your normally laudable solidarity with your neighbors comes about because you are being solid against black people, which is, well, racism.
Old Dog speaks of a mix in the neighborhood, and sure there was a mix of everybody who wasn't black, but living in the bungalow belt, there was a remarkable similarity in income. Nobody really rich and nobody really poor, and even if there was some disparity in income it wasn't that noticeable because everybody lived in the same damn kind of house.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Just another neighborhood
Not having read The Lost City puts me at quite a disadvantage, although the Amazon reviews have given me a good sense of the book. I was wondering whether or not the book addresses the "white flight" that occurred in the 50s.
I ask because my aunt & uncle, and their kids, moved to Elmhurst in '56. At the time they lived in the same two-flat as my family, just west of Humboldt Park. But, when word got out that there were Puerto Ricans moving into the area east of Humboldt Park folks got fearful and moved out, many to the suburbs. A trickle became a flood, property values dropped, and the change in demographics was swift. I can't back this up with any hard data, but that's my recollection based on anecdotal reports. I think it took less than five years for the old neighborhood to become mostly Puerto Rican.
But here's the thing, it didn't have to happen that way. If nobody moves out, nobody can move in. The neighborhood could have remained the same and property values would have remained stable. This is a vast simplification, but it makes sense to me. There are many areas in the city where the residents stayed put, and didn't let fear of other ethnic groups drive them out; Little Italy and Ukrainian Village come to mind.
I like a bit of a mix in the neighborhood; too many of the same kind of folks make me wary, as they sometimes have the same rigid mindset. When we moved further north in '56, it was into an originally German neighborhood which also included Italians, Irish, Greeks, and I think a Lebanese family across the street. Many years later a Mexican family moved in next door. There were never any issues, nice folks all.
Once folks moved in, they stayed and property didn't change hands unless the owner needed a larger place for his family or died. That neighborhood is only a few blocks from me, and I sometimes stroll down the sidewalk and marvel at how it looks the same, except some of the trees look different. That area was near ground zero for the Asian Longhorned beetle infestation a while back, and it took out a whole lot of trees, which the city replaced.
I ask because my aunt & uncle, and their kids, moved to Elmhurst in '56. At the time they lived in the same two-flat as my family, just west of Humboldt Park. But, when word got out that there were Puerto Ricans moving into the area east of Humboldt Park folks got fearful and moved out, many to the suburbs. A trickle became a flood, property values dropped, and the change in demographics was swift. I can't back this up with any hard data, but that's my recollection based on anecdotal reports. I think it took less than five years for the old neighborhood to become mostly Puerto Rican.
But here's the thing, it didn't have to happen that way. If nobody moves out, nobody can move in. The neighborhood could have remained the same and property values would have remained stable. This is a vast simplification, but it makes sense to me. There are many areas in the city where the residents stayed put, and didn't let fear of other ethnic groups drive them out; Little Italy and Ukrainian Village come to mind.
I like a bit of a mix in the neighborhood; too many of the same kind of folks make me wary, as they sometimes have the same rigid mindset. When we moved further north in '56, it was into an originally German neighborhood which also included Italians, Irish, Greeks, and I think a Lebanese family across the street. Many years later a Mexican family moved in next door. There were never any issues, nice folks all.
Once folks moved in, they stayed and property didn't change hands unless the owner needed a larger place for his family or died. That neighborhood is only a few blocks from me, and I sometimes stroll down the sidewalk and marvel at how it looks the same, except some of the trees look different. That area was near ground zero for the Asian Longhorned beetle infestation a while back, and it took out a whole lot of trees, which the city replaced.
Friday, August 26, 2016
Sin in the Lost City
All those people in the book were Catholics, except for the suburbanites. The way I remember the Catholics was they believed what they were told to believe. If the priest said it was wrong, then it was wrong, ipso facto case closed. It would never have occurred to them to question the priest's judgment, or even to look in the Bible to see if they got a different interpretation than the priest had gotten out of a particular passage. It was easier to get forgiveness than permission anyway. It was no big deal, just go to Confession, say a bunch of Hail Mary's, and they were free to go out and sin again so they would have something to confess next week.
With the Protestant suburbanites, it was the same only different. They didn't use the word "sin" much but, to them, anything that they did differently than their neighbors was wrong. It would never have occurred to them that their neighbors might be wrong, or even to look around and see if people in other neighborhoods had different moral values. They weren't so concerned with forgiveness because they just didn't do anything "wrong" in the first place or, if they did, they didn't tell anybody about it.
I'm with you on the part about accepting responsibility, though.
I never paid much attention to the right side of my report card where all the checks went. I never had any checks on mine except for my stupid year, and then I don't remember what they were for. I seem to remember that most people got checks for talking out of turn or being otherwise disruptive in class. I don't think there was even a category for that, but they must have made it fit in one of the other categories.
I think I said previously that, when I got out of the army, I was disappointed to discover that real life was like the army in some ways, but I don't think I could say that about school. As I remember it, school was nothing like real life at all, which is one reason I didn't re-enlist for another four years of it. Looking back on it, I'm sure that I learned stuff in school that was useful later in life, but I never saw anything like the school culture until I went to work for the Cheboygan schools decades later. When I was subbing for one of the custodians at the high school, I saw a list of classroom rules on the wall. One of the rules was "Keep your hands, feet, and comments to yourself." I understood the "hands and feet" part because it was a constant battle trying to get those kids to keep their hands and other body parts off each other, but I thought the "comments" part was ironic because the sign on the door said this was a public speaking class. I think I know what was meant, and I suppose all the students did too, but only in school would you ever see something like that posted on the wall.
With the Protestant suburbanites, it was the same only different. They didn't use the word "sin" much but, to them, anything that they did differently than their neighbors was wrong. It would never have occurred to them that their neighbors might be wrong, or even to look around and see if people in other neighborhoods had different moral values. They weren't so concerned with forgiveness because they just didn't do anything "wrong" in the first place or, if they did, they didn't tell anybody about it.
I'm with you on the part about accepting responsibility, though.
I never paid much attention to the right side of my report card where all the checks went. I never had any checks on mine except for my stupid year, and then I don't remember what they were for. I seem to remember that most people got checks for talking out of turn or being otherwise disruptive in class. I don't think there was even a category for that, but they must have made it fit in one of the other categories.
I think I said previously that, when I got out of the army, I was disappointed to discover that real life was like the army in some ways, but I don't think I could say that about school. As I remember it, school was nothing like real life at all, which is one reason I didn't re-enlist for another four years of it. Looking back on it, I'm sure that I learned stuff in school that was useful later in life, but I never saw anything like the school culture until I went to work for the Cheboygan schools decades later. When I was subbing for one of the custodians at the high school, I saw a list of classroom rules on the wall. One of the rules was "Keep your hands, feet, and comments to yourself." I understood the "hands and feet" part because it was a constant battle trying to get those kids to keep their hands and other body parts off each other, but I thought the "comments" part was ironic because the sign on the door said this was a public speaking class. I think I know what was meant, and I suppose all the students did too, but only in school would you ever see something like that posted on the wall.
accepting responsibility
A dark night of the soul in the sixth grade for Beagles, reeling from the injustice and the hypocrisy of the blue jeans incident, and those mysterious changes taking place in his body and his mind as he emerged into manhood, calmed by the ways of nature, realizing among the birds and the bees and skittering little deer, the correct path, and marching on to Beaglesonia where, unable to solve the problems of the world, he is at least able to tend to his local garden and make that better,
I remember the discussion on sin. What I was thinking was there were times when we knew what we were doing was wrong, but we did it anyway, like maybe cheating on a test, or getting too much change from the clerk and putting it in your pocket, or exceeding the speed limit, or knocking off a Seven Eleven.
I was talking about it in the sense of Accepting Responsibility. Kind of taken from this book, The Lost City (Alan Ehrenhalt, say the word Old Dog and I'll drop it off at the Ten Cat tonight) which explored the ways the country has changed since the fifties, using as examples areas of Chicago, one of them the hood just south of Gage Park. His tenet was that in the old days people sinned, but they knew they had sinned, and they had to atone for that. Contrast that to this modern day where everybody claims to have PTSD or something happened to them in their youth, or something, so that if they did wrong it was somebody else's fault, and they are as pure as god made them.
Those report cards followed the same format from 1 to 8. I picked that particular card, third grade I think, randomly, but they were all similar. The parental units were upset, but then they were always upset, it was just something that was wrong with me, like having a club foot or webbed fingers, they got used to it. One thing I will give them credit for, though I didn't feel that way at the time. They always took the teacher's side and not my side, and they were right in doing that.
As a substitute teacher I had no access to a kid's permanent record. I would always write a note to the teacher before I left about how the day went and maybe I would mention a bad kid or two,l but I suspect it was either a kid who was always bad so it didn't make any difference or it was a kid who was not normally bad, but acted up in the peculiar situation of having a sub, and in that case his misbehavior would be excused.
There was one instance I remember, Washington Irving School by Western on the south side of the Eisenhower, a long day with the obstreperous upper grades, kids filing into the classroom and one of the boys trips one of the girls, and right in front of me, and she took a pretty good sprawl. "Goddamn," I said, which was one of maybe three times I swore in seven years of subbing. Horseplay goes on, but she wasn't laughing, she was pissed, and so was I, so off to the office he went. As I was punching out at the office at the end of the da, one of the clerks said there was a phone call for me. What the fuck? It was the parent of the kid, hadn't I been mistaken? No I was not. And then she came up with she heard that I was swearing a blue streak. I had already punched out, I was off the clock, I hung up on her. Nothing ever came of it.
Anymore comments on the Tonti Elementary School Code of Conduct? Anything that seems reasonable? Anything that seems unfair? Another weekend lays (lies?) before us, we shall have time to ruminate.
Thursday, August 25, 2016
My Stupid Year
I always got good grades in school and never had any check marks on my report card, except for my stupid year. I had some kind of constitutional crisis when I was 11 years old and in the sixth grade. Looking back on it now, it might have been caused, at least in part, by puberty knocking on my door, but I didn't make that connection at the time. This was around the time of The Great Blue Jean Conspiracy, so that must have had something to do with it as well. (Old Dog, that story is somewhere in the archives of the institute but, if you can't find it and are interested, I can email you a copy.) For whatever reason or combination of reasons, my behavior, both in and out of school, went down like a submarine. I eventually pulled myself together and got on with my life but, for awhile there, I wasn't the kind of person I wanted to be when I grew up, and I so wanted to grow up. I don't remember exactly how I saved myself, but I think it had something to do with hunting and fishing. Now that was the kind of person I wanted to be when I grew up, and I realized that what I had been doing was counterproductive to that end, so I abandoned it.
Uncle Ken said something about me never doing anything wrong, which might be misconstrued by anybody who was not familiar with the dialogue that preceded it. We were talking about sin, and Ken wanted to define it as knowing something is wrong and doing it anyway. I asserted that, by that definition, I was without sin. Sure I had done some wrong things in my life, but I didn't believe them to be wrong before I did them and, as soon as I realized that they were wrong, I quit doing them. I don't think we ever resolved that one to Ken's satisfaction, at least not yet.
Domesticated apple trees are the result of selectively breeding wild trees to improve the quality of the fruit. In the process, the survivability of the trees themselves was compromised, so they took the upper part of the trees and grafted them to rootstocks of the more hardy wild varieties. Wild apple trees aren't native to Michigan, so what I referred to as "wild" might more properly be called "feral". These are trees that were planted by somebody and subsequently allowed to deteriorate. Some of them were cut down and spontaneously re-sprouted from the roots, so they usually don't produce the same varieties of apples as the original tree. The apples that they do produce are mostly consumed by animals who could care less about quality. Some of these apples end up re-seeding new trees, but they seldom amount to much, and are called "scrub apple trees" by the locals. Once in awhile I come across one that looks promising, so I clear the other trees and brush from around it to give it a better chance. I have not had much luck pruning these trees to rehabilitate them, and have found that it's better to leave them alone.
Uncle Ken said something about me never doing anything wrong, which might be misconstrued by anybody who was not familiar with the dialogue that preceded it. We were talking about sin, and Ken wanted to define it as knowing something is wrong and doing it anyway. I asserted that, by that definition, I was without sin. Sure I had done some wrong things in my life, but I didn't believe them to be wrong before I did them and, as soon as I realized that they were wrong, I quit doing them. I don't think we ever resolved that one to Ken's satisfaction, at least not yet.
Domesticated apple trees are the result of selectively breeding wild trees to improve the quality of the fruit. In the process, the survivability of the trees themselves was compromised, so they took the upper part of the trees and grafted them to rootstocks of the more hardy wild varieties. Wild apple trees aren't native to Michigan, so what I referred to as "wild" might more properly be called "feral". These are trees that were planted by somebody and subsequently allowed to deteriorate. Some of them were cut down and spontaneously re-sprouted from the roots, so they usually don't produce the same varieties of apples as the original tree. The apples that they do produce are mostly consumed by animals who could care less about quality. Some of these apples end up re-seeding new trees, but they seldom amount to much, and are called "scrub apple trees" by the locals. Once in awhile I come across one that looks promising, so I clear the other trees and brush from around it to give it a better chance. I have not had much luck pruning these trees to rehabilitate them, and have found that it's better to leave them alone.
Noticed something
A lack of comment doesn't imply a lack of notice, Uncle Ken. The report card is an interesting bit of the historical record, but it raised some questions. It is only one report card of many but what is the context? Was it from the first grade, fourth grade, or what? Were the same boxes ticked off every year, or were there changes?
What was the feedback from the parental units? Did they agree with the assessments or did they respond with outrage, "There must be some mistake! Our young Kenneth would never behave that way!"?
Then I recalled that at one time Uncle Ken was a substitute teacher, but may have lacked the authority to wield the mighty pen and inflict his own checkmarks on some unsuspecting troublemaker. Were there regrets?
But none of this is any of my business, and I'm not ready to jump down the rabbit hole of the analysis of old report cards. I enjoy reading whatever Uncle Ken writes, and I'll let it go at that.
-----
Too bad about your apple trees, Mr. Beagles, as they have a certain mystery. A while back I was reading about apples and their propagation. You can't plant a seed from a favorite apple, a Fuji perhaps, and expect to get a tree that yields Fujis. I don't understand the botany, but to get Fuji apples you have to graft an existing Fuji cutting to another apple tree; it may not matter what kind. I think you can get different types of apples from the same tree, which is very cool, but will cause all kinds of complex cross pollination issues. Apple growers practice their own kind of art.
New varieties show up in the supermarkets all the time and I have no idea what they taste like until I buy and eat them. I'm glad they all have little labels on them now; it can be hard to tell the difference otherwise. A lot of them just look like the regular old apples of childhood memory, but don't be fooled.
A favorite snack of mine is to spread a little crunchy peanut butter on a slice of apple. A tasty treat, and one of those nearly forgotten things I learned from my father.
What was the feedback from the parental units? Did they agree with the assessments or did they respond with outrage, "There must be some mistake! Our young Kenneth would never behave that way!"?
Then I recalled that at one time Uncle Ken was a substitute teacher, but may have lacked the authority to wield the mighty pen and inflict his own checkmarks on some unsuspecting troublemaker. Were there regrets?
But none of this is any of my business, and I'm not ready to jump down the rabbit hole of the analysis of old report cards. I enjoy reading whatever Uncle Ken writes, and I'll let it go at that.
-----
Too bad about your apple trees, Mr. Beagles, as they have a certain mystery. A while back I was reading about apples and their propagation. You can't plant a seed from a favorite apple, a Fuji perhaps, and expect to get a tree that yields Fujis. I don't understand the botany, but to get Fuji apples you have to graft an existing Fuji cutting to another apple tree; it may not matter what kind. I think you can get different types of apples from the same tree, which is very cool, but will cause all kinds of complex cross pollination issues. Apple growers practice their own kind of art.
New varieties show up in the supermarkets all the time and I have no idea what they taste like until I buy and eat them. I'm glad they all have little labels on them now; it can be hard to tell the difference otherwise. A lot of them just look like the regular old apples of childhood memory, but don't be fooled.
A favorite snack of mine is to spread a little crunchy peanut butter on a slice of apple. A tasty treat, and one of those nearly forgotten things I learned from my father.
explicating the code of conduct of my youth
I see that neither of my fellow BeagleBoys (I have a friend who calls us the Beaglestonians, which has a nice dignified ring to it, but BeagleBoys has it's own folksy charm) has taken any notice of the code of conduct spelled out for us by CPD in the fifties, and likely to this day as their code is well-formed to my opinion.
SOCIAL HABITS
Practices courtesy in speech and action. I couldn't agree more, There is never an excuse to be rude. In my wild youth I sometimes thought that good manners were a kind of hypocrisy, and you know I still do a bit, but I am a lot softer on hypocrisy than I was as an uncompromising youth. I mean it doesn't cost that much to be polite. We should all be good people, but we are imperfect and we all do bad (except Beagles), and that is just the human natural, but there is no reason why we can't be polite, even while doing bad.
Works and plays well with others. Hum, well what is there besides work and play? If you get down to it our environment is not the stormy sea or the dusty desert or the tower in the middle of the shiny city or the wild jungle of Beaglesonia. It is other people. Seems like you can get by with not working well with others, though you should at least be polite, but if you don't play well with others nobody will want to play with you.
Conforms to school regulations. This is very self-serving. This is The Man planting his jackboot upside your backside. We don't need no stinking school regulations. I'm not fond of this one.
Accepts responsibility. I have never been a big fan of responsibility. I have ducked it as well as I could throughout my life, but when it has come to pass, I suppose I have accepted it well enough. Somebody has to be responsible. I guess the bad part of it is that when you are responsible for something that turns out well, well that was just your responsibility and you don't get any kudos for that, but when it doesn't turn out well, well something has to be done about that, and that generally means that something has to be do done to you. But there is something manly about telling Pops that it was you who took the axe to that cherry tree.
Respects public and private property. Well this is pretty political isn't it? Well certainly we should respect public property (like don't litter on the public trans), because that belongs to The People, Private property, well property is theft isn't it? Well that's what I thought in my youth, except for my property.
WORK AND STUDY HABITS
Comes prepared for work. I suppose that's okay as long as it means bring enough pencils, but not if it means like wearing a tie and shined shoes.
Uses careful methods of work. This is like, oh being neat, which was a weak point of my early academic career, I never got those extra two points for neatness. I have never been a big fan or work, but if there is work to do, the criterion should be if it's done, not how it's done. It's like the boss standing over you telling you to use this wrench not that one, it's not tolerable
Completes work on time. As the reader can see this was never one of my strong points. Nevertheless I see the point. I was wrong. I take responsibility.
Keeps profitably busy. Isn't this a judgement call? I used to spend a lot of time day dreaming. aren't we supposed to follow our dreams?
Cares for material and equipment. This is reasonable enough.
HEALTH AND SAFETY HABITS
Practices simple health rules. I think this means bathe regularly, fair enough. I wonder if it also has something to do with carrying a handkerchief because that was something Mom always made me do. But frankly I never saw the point. Wouldn't you rather blow your nose into, I don't know, whatever is handy, rather than fill that handkerchief with snot and put it back in your pocket? I don't think people carry them anymore but they used to be in all the drug stores, on the shelf by the combs. Remember combs? Especially the ones with that little pocket clip so it could nestle next to your pens. Combs were very big in your teen years of course, but they faded rapidly after young adulthood. I have one in my bathroom and I use it after my shower, but after that my hair doesn't see a comb until after the next shower.
Observes traffic and other safety rules. I got hit by a car when I was in high school and again when I was a freshman in college. At the time I thought that it would be happening to me regularly for the rest of my life, but it hasn't happened since.
I guess there are other issues of the day, but I have been profitably busy explicating this code of conduct, and I will not be completing any other work today.
SOCIAL HABITS
Works and plays well with others. Hum, well what is there besides work and play? If you get down to it our environment is not the stormy sea or the dusty desert or the tower in the middle of the shiny city or the wild jungle of Beaglesonia. It is other people. Seems like you can get by with not working well with others, though you should at least be polite, but if you don't play well with others nobody will want to play with you.
Conforms to school regulations. This is very self-serving. This is The Man planting his jackboot upside your backside. We don't need no stinking school regulations. I'm not fond of this one.
Accepts responsibility. I have never been a big fan of responsibility. I have ducked it as well as I could throughout my life, but when it has come to pass, I suppose I have accepted it well enough. Somebody has to be responsible. I guess the bad part of it is that when you are responsible for something that turns out well, well that was just your responsibility and you don't get any kudos for that, but when it doesn't turn out well, well something has to be done about that, and that generally means that something has to be do done to you. But there is something manly about telling Pops that it was you who took the axe to that cherry tree.
Respects public and private property. Well this is pretty political isn't it? Well certainly we should respect public property (like don't litter on the public trans), because that belongs to The People, Private property, well property is theft isn't it? Well that's what I thought in my youth, except for my property.
WORK AND STUDY HABITS
Comes prepared for work. I suppose that's okay as long as it means bring enough pencils, but not if it means like wearing a tie and shined shoes.
Uses careful methods of work. This is like, oh being neat, which was a weak point of my early academic career, I never got those extra two points for neatness. I have never been a big fan or work, but if there is work to do, the criterion should be if it's done, not how it's done. It's like the boss standing over you telling you to use this wrench not that one, it's not tolerable
Completes work on time. As the reader can see this was never one of my strong points. Nevertheless I see the point. I was wrong. I take responsibility.
Keeps profitably busy. Isn't this a judgement call? I used to spend a lot of time day dreaming. aren't we supposed to follow our dreams?
Cares for material and equipment. This is reasonable enough.
HEALTH AND SAFETY HABITS
Practices simple health rules. I think this means bathe regularly, fair enough. I wonder if it also has something to do with carrying a handkerchief because that was something Mom always made me do. But frankly I never saw the point. Wouldn't you rather blow your nose into, I don't know, whatever is handy, rather than fill that handkerchief with snot and put it back in your pocket? I don't think people carry them anymore but they used to be in all the drug stores, on the shelf by the combs. Remember combs? Especially the ones with that little pocket clip so it could nestle next to your pens. Combs were very big in your teen years of course, but they faded rapidly after young adulthood. I have one in my bathroom and I use it after my shower, but after that my hair doesn't see a comb until after the next shower.
Observes traffic and other safety rules. I got hit by a car when I was in high school and again when I was a freshman in college. At the time I thought that it would be happening to me regularly for the rest of my life, but it hasn't happened since.
I guess there are other issues of the day, but I have been profitably busy explicating this code of conduct, and I will not be completing any other work today.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
What Goes Up Must Come Down
When I said "those people" were fighting among themselves, I meant all those people, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Red China. There are more, but those are the ones that immediately come to mind. Throughout history, they all took their turn at dominating their neighbors, but those ancient empires had declined and fell long before the French showed up. Europe went through a similar process, but Britain, France, Spain, and Portugal, had risen from their ashes and were ascending while most of Africa and Asia hadn't pulled out of their last crash dive yet. That's why Europe was able to colonize those places instead of the other way around. North and South America were a little different. The Incas and Aztecs were at their peak, but the Spanish conquistadors were able to mobilize their vassals against them. Native North Americans were not as far advanced, but there is evidence that some of them used to be, like the Mayans, the Navahos, the Pueblos, and the guys who built all those mounds in Kentucky. Some people have been saying for a long time that our own civilization has already peaked and we are all going down like the Romans, but I think it's too early to tell that yet. By some measures, it appears that we did peak at the end of World War II, but that might have been a perception thing, due to the decline of everybody else.
I agree with Ken that the Mideast has been in an uproar for a long time, we just hadn't been paying attention. In our lifetimes, it has steadily gotten harder to not pay attention to world events. Funny, though, we hardly ever hear anything about Canada. I wonder if that's because the Canadians never do anything important, or if somebody doesn't want us to know about it when they do.
Last I heard, the EU was having existential problems of their own, so I wouldn't worry about them threatening our national sovereignty any time soon. Truth be known, neither nationalism nor internationalism seem to be much of a threat anymore. The biggest threats to world peace today are coming from tribes, gangs, and cults.
I tried planting apple trees in Beaglesonia, but they didn't do well here. I didn't care about harvesting apples for human consumption, it was for the benefit of the wildlife. The trouble is that our local wildlife doesn't seem to understand the concept of deferred gratification because they ate the trees long before they could grow enough to produce apples. There are a few wild apple trees around, and I have tried to encourage them, but they seem to do better if I leave them alone. It's hard to cultivate anything here because it can't compete with the wild stuff. Man, it's a jungle out there!
I agree with Ken that the Mideast has been in an uproar for a long time, we just hadn't been paying attention. In our lifetimes, it has steadily gotten harder to not pay attention to world events. Funny, though, we hardly ever hear anything about Canada. I wonder if that's because the Canadians never do anything important, or if somebody doesn't want us to know about it when they do.
Last I heard, the EU was having existential problems of their own, so I wouldn't worry about them threatening our national sovereignty any time soon. Truth be known, neither nationalism nor internationalism seem to be much of a threat anymore. The biggest threats to world peace today are coming from tribes, gangs, and cults.
I tried planting apple trees in Beaglesonia, but they didn't do well here. I didn't care about harvesting apples for human consumption, it was for the benefit of the wildlife. The trouble is that our local wildlife doesn't seem to understand the concept of deferred gratification because they ate the trees long before they could grow enough to produce apples. There are a few wild apple trees around, and I have tried to encourage them, but they seem to do better if I leave them alone. It's hard to cultivate anything here because it can't compete with the wild stuff. Man, it's a jungle out there!
Bag a cat
Stewardship is not something that I read about every day, and the responsibility that Mr. Beagles has for his forest is above and beyond the call of duty. Even us non-religious types would say he is doing the Lord's work, and indeed he is. Have any fruit trees been introduced to the freehold?
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It must be more than twenty years since I watched The Falcon and the Snowman on VHS from the local video store. I'm always curious about the movies that Uncle Ken mentions, even in passing.
So I watched it again the other day, wondering about the references to the 60s and how well the film held up after all this time. It was a pleasant surprise seeing those young guys, Hutton and Penn, in their roles as amateur spies.
As Mr. Beagles said, "Those weren't simpler times, we were just simpler people." I liked it better when there was a clear delineation between amateur and professional. Espionage has come a long way, baby, thanks to Snowden, Assange, Manning, and folks of that ilk. No more of that nonsense of sneaking around with documents hidden in newspapers or making marks on a lamppost to schedule a clandestine meeting. Today everyone can be a spy; a quick encrypted text message, and there you go. The cat is out of the bag.
I don't know if this is good or bad. There is so much information flying around that it must be close to impossible to analyze it and make sense of it's meaning. Maybe Google and Amazon Web Services are fronts for the NSA, or vice versa, and it's all a plot to make us buy more crap to keep the global economy humming. Not the goofiest idea I've come up with, but it will serve.
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Viet Nam seems to be doing well these days, with a growing economy and industrial base. That's what happens when you get bombed to shit; you wind up with new factories. I used to joke that if the Axis powers won WWII we would end up driving German and Japanese cars. Funny how things worked out.
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It's true that we 'Muricans don't pay much attention to the rest of the world, but I can't blame the Economist for my latest list of crises. Those were just items found from various news aggregation sites, subject to change daily.
And they do...yesterday some bigwig at the EU was saying they should do away with all national borders. Yeah, that should work well.
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It must be more than twenty years since I watched The Falcon and the Snowman on VHS from the local video store. I'm always curious about the movies that Uncle Ken mentions, even in passing.
So I watched it again the other day, wondering about the references to the 60s and how well the film held up after all this time. It was a pleasant surprise seeing those young guys, Hutton and Penn, in their roles as amateur spies.
As Mr. Beagles said, "Those weren't simpler times, we were just simpler people." I liked it better when there was a clear delineation between amateur and professional. Espionage has come a long way, baby, thanks to Snowden, Assange, Manning, and folks of that ilk. No more of that nonsense of sneaking around with documents hidden in newspapers or making marks on a lamppost to schedule a clandestine meeting. Today everyone can be a spy; a quick encrypted text message, and there you go. The cat is out of the bag.
I don't know if this is good or bad. There is so much information flying around that it must be close to impossible to analyze it and make sense of it's meaning. Maybe Google and Amazon Web Services are fronts for the NSA, or vice versa, and it's all a plot to make us buy more crap to keep the global economy humming. Not the goofiest idea I've come up with, but it will serve.
-----
Viet Nam seems to be doing well these days, with a growing economy and industrial base. That's what happens when you get bombed to shit; you wind up with new factories. I used to joke that if the Axis powers won WWII we would end up driving German and Japanese cars. Funny how things worked out.
-----
It's true that we 'Muricans don't pay much attention to the rest of the world, but I can't blame the Economist for my latest list of crises. Those were just items found from various news aggregation sites, subject to change daily.
And they do...yesterday some bigwig at the EU was saying they should do away with all national borders. Yeah, that should work well.
rising like the phoenix
I think the Vietnamese thought of the war as being one of independence after the French, the Japanese, the French again, and then the US, they, like all people, would rather be oppressed by their own people than by strangers. After they drove us out they deposed the evil Pol Pot in Cambodia, and they went to war with China itself, and acquitted themselves pretty well. I haven't read much about them fighting among themselves,
I believe the states of the mideast have a long history of fighting among themselves. It's just that we didn't pay any attention to it until Israel and the discovery of oil there.
Now that we have a lull in the discussion let me present the behavioral section of the Chicago Public Schools report card. You'll note that my weakness was completing work on time. I thought we might have a discussion on whether or not these are important criteria to judge a person by, but I have to say I think the public schools did a pretty good job of breaking things down.
But anyway, maybe this is as close as we get to a permanent record. Although I have these in my possession, and I doubt that the school kept a copy. Nowadays grade school graduates apply to several high schools, so maybe those high schools peruse the grades of the kids vying to attend them.
Of course in our day we had a simpler old school way of determining where you went. If you lived north of 59th Street you went to Lindblom. I'm not sure what the southern border was, maybe 51st Street and then you went to Kelly, otherwise you went to Gage Park, and I expect at that point your grade school permanent record went into one of those wire garbage cans and were set ablaze, so that the new you, like the phoenix, could rise into the sky of your destiny.
I don't know why they didn't make that part the closing of our graduation ceremony. Probably because nobody would have paid any attention to the first part, waiting for the fire.
I believe the states of the mideast have a long history of fighting among themselves. It's just that we didn't pay any attention to it until Israel and the discovery of oil there.
Now that we have a lull in the discussion let me present the behavioral section of the Chicago Public Schools report card. You'll note that my weakness was completing work on time. I thought we might have a discussion on whether or not these are important criteria to judge a person by, but I have to say I think the public schools did a pretty good job of breaking things down.
But anyway, maybe this is as close as we get to a permanent record. Although I have these in my possession, and I doubt that the school kept a copy. Nowadays grade school graduates apply to several high schools, so maybe those high schools peruse the grades of the kids vying to attend them.
Of course in our day we had a simpler old school way of determining where you went. If you lived north of 59th Street you went to Lindblom. I'm not sure what the southern border was, maybe 51st Street and then you went to Kelly, otherwise you went to Gage Park, and I expect at that point your grade school permanent record went into one of those wire garbage cans and were set ablaze, so that the new you, like the phoenix, could rise into the sky of your destiny.
I don't know why they didn't make that part the closing of our graduation ceremony. Probably because nobody would have paid any attention to the first part, waiting for the fire.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
The D&M Don't Come Here No More
I didn't know that about the electric streetcars in Cheboygan, but they did have passenger rail service until about 1960, and they kept freight trains going until 1990 when the paper mill closed down. The Detroit and Mackinac Railroad never went to Detroit or Mackinac City, but its founders must have believed that it would someday or they wouldn't have named it that. I think the longest it ever ran was from Bay City to Cheboygan. Some towns along that run have preserved sections of the track and make occasional excursion runs for the tourists, but not Cheboygan. All the track around here was pulled out shortly after the trains stopped using it, and the right of way was converted to snowmobile trails. They let people walk and ride bicycles on it in the summer, but no wheeled motor vehicles are allowed. Greyhound busses used to come here too, but I don't remember when they discontinued, probably in the 70s or 80s.
While it's true that, if the automobile had never been invented, we would probably still have public transportation, that doesn't mean it would go every place that people wanted to go, because it never did in the past. People who lived in the country didn't go to town very often and, when they did, it took them all day to get there and back. Even after cars became popular, their owners would drain the radiators and put their cars up on blocks for the winter because the roads, barely usable in the summer, became impassable when the snow came. There was a local company that invented a type of snowplow, but it was a horse drawn contraption that was used to grade and pack the snow to make it easier for other horses pulling sleighs the traverse the roads. When the snowpack got soft in the spring, everybody just stayed home until it finished melting.
We perceived the Vietnam War to be about us versus them, but I don't think the people of Indo-China perceived it that way. Those people were fighting among themselves before the French took over, and they went right back to it after the Americans pulled out. I don't remember when they began to settle down, or if they ever did. We don't hear much about them anymore. We never used to hear much about the Middle East either until they re-established Israel there in 1948. Too bad they didn't put Israel in North America instead. There are more Jews here than there are in Israel, and it seems like they would be happier among their own people.
While it's true that, if the automobile had never been invented, we would probably still have public transportation, that doesn't mean it would go every place that people wanted to go, because it never did in the past. People who lived in the country didn't go to town very often and, when they did, it took them all day to get there and back. Even after cars became popular, their owners would drain the radiators and put their cars up on blocks for the winter because the roads, barely usable in the summer, became impassable when the snow came. There was a local company that invented a type of snowplow, but it was a horse drawn contraption that was used to grade and pack the snow to make it easier for other horses pulling sleighs the traverse the roads. When the snowpack got soft in the spring, everybody just stayed home until it finished melting.
We perceived the Vietnam War to be about us versus them, but I don't think the people of Indo-China perceived it that way. Those people were fighting among themselves before the French took over, and they went right back to it after the Americans pulled out. I don't remember when they began to settle down, or if they ever did. We don't hear much about them anymore. We never used to hear much about the Middle East either until they re-established Israel there in 1948. Too bad they didn't put Israel in North America instead. There are more Jews here than there are in Israel, and it seems like they would be happier among their own people.
validating streetcars with clarity by the clever use of burnt sienna
I think there are two sides to art. One is doing it, enjoying it, following your own path, discovering things along the way. In one sense, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, it's not that different from watching crap tv or smoking crack, but in another way it is, you are doing something, you are thinking about things, maybe it is like building birdhouses or baking muffins. The other side of art is that validation thing, You can't always get it, and you shouldn't quit because you don't, but it is nice to have, and there is nothing wrong with going to an art fair or showing off your birdhouses or inviting some folks over to taste your muffins.
What you don't want to do, or what I don't think you want to do, is to be thinking of selling your work while you are making it, and adjusting how you do it with an eye towards what will sell. Well baking muffins you should probably be thinking that because you really can't store all those muffins in your closet. But anyway my thinking is that if you are thinking of potential customers while you are doing your art you won't be focused right and won't do good art, But I can see how some could think differently, maybe the guy who I would be tempting to call a sell out is taking the opinion of others and weaving it into the production of his art and coming up with a product that is a collaboration between themselves and the rest of the world and is therefore superior because it is more accessible.
I think the whole thing where the true artist looks askance at the successful (monetary) artist and calls him a sellout is bogus. The true artist should accept the fact that being true to himself is not going to make him rich and quit bellyaching.
Horse drawn streetcars came before the electric ones. There routes were never that long and I used to wonder why did they bother, but then I realized that the streets were all mud in those days. Googling has revealed that Cheboygan also had electric streetcars for awhile anyway. The thing is if cars were for some reason not practical and were never invented, then the free enterprise system would have provided public trans. There would be money to be made in hauling people, and of course you would haul people where they wanted to go because that is where the money is.
I realize that none of this is actually practical. Streetcars gave way to the automobile because people preferred automobiles. Lately though public trans is making some inroads in more populated areas. Mid-sized cities are getting light rail and here in Chicago they are building apartment complexes along el routes with no parking garages because some people (like gracefully aging hipster Uncle Ken) don't want to be bothered with owning cars.
I think the war in Vietnam was much simpler because it was more us vs them, rather than some of us against some of them and some of those fighting with us and fighting against us are also fighting against each other. Also to us opposing or for it, it looked like more like good vs evil, whereas with the mideast wars it's more the lesser of evils, and the lesser keeps changing..
Old Dog speaks of the many crises going on today, looks like he just went down the contents page of The Economist, but that's in the rest of the world, but we Americans never pay much attention to the rest of the world.
I can see where Old Dog gets validation from people downloading his files and following him on thingiverse. It's probably tougher getting validation than in painting because any idiot can look at a painting and either like it or not like it but most people won't know what to make of a thingiverse thing. But at least his people know something about something, somebody who bought one of my cat paintings might do so because it looked like Mr Fluffy, but they would have no knowledge of my clever use of burnt sienna.
What you don't want to do, or what I don't think you want to do, is to be thinking of selling your work while you are making it, and adjusting how you do it with an eye towards what will sell. Well baking muffins you should probably be thinking that because you really can't store all those muffins in your closet. But anyway my thinking is that if you are thinking of potential customers while you are doing your art you won't be focused right and won't do good art, But I can see how some could think differently, maybe the guy who I would be tempting to call a sell out is taking the opinion of others and weaving it into the production of his art and coming up with a product that is a collaboration between themselves and the rest of the world and is therefore superior because it is more accessible.
I think the whole thing where the true artist looks askance at the successful (monetary) artist and calls him a sellout is bogus. The true artist should accept the fact that being true to himself is not going to make him rich and quit bellyaching.
Horse drawn streetcars came before the electric ones. There routes were never that long and I used to wonder why did they bother, but then I realized that the streets were all mud in those days. Googling has revealed that Cheboygan also had electric streetcars for awhile anyway. The thing is if cars were for some reason not practical and were never invented, then the free enterprise system would have provided public trans. There would be money to be made in hauling people, and of course you would haul people where they wanted to go because that is where the money is.
I realize that none of this is actually practical. Streetcars gave way to the automobile because people preferred automobiles. Lately though public trans is making some inroads in more populated areas. Mid-sized cities are getting light rail and here in Chicago they are building apartment complexes along el routes with no parking garages because some people (like gracefully aging hipster Uncle Ken) don't want to be bothered with owning cars.
I think the war in Vietnam was much simpler because it was more us vs them, rather than some of us against some of them and some of those fighting with us and fighting against us are also fighting against each other. Also to us opposing or for it, it looked like more like good vs evil, whereas with the mideast wars it's more the lesser of evils, and the lesser keeps changing..
Old Dog speaks of the many crises going on today, looks like he just went down the contents page of The Economist, but that's in the rest of the world, but we Americans never pay much attention to the rest of the world.
I can see where Old Dog gets validation from people downloading his files and following him on thingiverse. It's probably tougher getting validation than in painting because any idiot can look at a painting and either like it or not like it but most people won't know what to make of a thingiverse thing. But at least his people know something about something, somebody who bought one of my cat paintings might do so because it looked like Mr Fluffy, but they would have no knowledge of my clever use of burnt sienna.
Monday, August 22, 2016
Art For Art's Sake
One of those old movie companies, I think it was MGM, the one with the roaring lion, had a Latin quote on it's logo. I'm not sure how it's spelled in Latin but, in English, it means "Art for art's sake." Of course art has been used for lots of other purposes, like advertising and propaganda but, in a larger sense, I think that's what art is supposed to be, a thing unto itself that is self validating. Thinking of it that way, the art does not work for the artist, the artist works for his art. We all like a little pat on the back once in awhile, but that's not the main reason we do stuff. We do stuff because it needs to be done, and we know how. We derive satisfaction from knowing that we are doing something useful, which is a fancy way of saying we do it because it's fun. One way of knowing that what you're doing is useful is if somebody is willing to pay you money to do it, but that's not the only way.
Sometimes nobody else seems to think that what we are doing is useful, but that doesn't mean it's not useful. When I cut down a tree, it's primarily because I want the firewood, and that's one kind of useful. It has been pointed out to me that if, instead of cutting firewood, I would put the same amount of time into a minimum wage job, I could buy my firewood and have money left over. While that may be true, I would rather spend my time in the woods than working at some crummy job, so that's what I do. Another kind of useful is when I select a tree to cut because it's in the way, either in my way or in the way of other trees that are trying to grow around it. This tree is past it's prime, it has lived it's life, and now it's time for it to get out of the way and let the younger trees have a chance. Few people would call my forestry practices "art" but, in a way, that's kind of what it is. Foresters like to say that they are working for future generations and, in my case, that's certainly true. Many of the improvements I make to my forest will not be apparent until I am long gone. It has occurred to me that, when I die, my heirs might sell this land to a developer who will pave it over, and all my efforts will come to naught. I could ask them not to do that, or even take legal steps to prevent them, but I don't want to. The knowledge that I have been a good steward of the land while I was here is enough for me. Let future generations do with it what they will.
I have read that there were horse drawn streetcars in Cheboygan back in the day. They must have been useful at the time, but they must have outlived their usefulness or they would still be in operation. Well, they wouldn't be horse drawn anymore, but you know what I mean. When I first moved here, there were taxi cabs, but they aren't here anymore either. I Think what Ken is saying is that, if they took all our cars away, we would have to use public transportation, and they would have to provide it for us because the need would be there. Well maybe, or maybe not. They could just take our cars away and leave us with nothing. Even if they did provide public transportation, it would only take us to where they wanted us to go, not necessarily where we wanted to go. No thanks, we'll just keep our cars.
Looking back on it, the Vietnam War was just as complicated as the Mideast conflicts are today. Those weren't simpler times, we were just simpler people.
Sometimes nobody else seems to think that what we are doing is useful, but that doesn't mean it's not useful. When I cut down a tree, it's primarily because I want the firewood, and that's one kind of useful. It has been pointed out to me that if, instead of cutting firewood, I would put the same amount of time into a minimum wage job, I could buy my firewood and have money left over. While that may be true, I would rather spend my time in the woods than working at some crummy job, so that's what I do. Another kind of useful is when I select a tree to cut because it's in the way, either in my way or in the way of other trees that are trying to grow around it. This tree is past it's prime, it has lived it's life, and now it's time for it to get out of the way and let the younger trees have a chance. Few people would call my forestry practices "art" but, in a way, that's kind of what it is. Foresters like to say that they are working for future generations and, in my case, that's certainly true. Many of the improvements I make to my forest will not be apparent until I am long gone. It has occurred to me that, when I die, my heirs might sell this land to a developer who will pave it over, and all my efforts will come to naught. I could ask them not to do that, or even take legal steps to prevent them, but I don't want to. The knowledge that I have been a good steward of the land while I was here is enough for me. Let future generations do with it what they will.
I have read that there were horse drawn streetcars in Cheboygan back in the day. They must have been useful at the time, but they must have outlived their usefulness or they would still be in operation. Well, they wouldn't be horse drawn anymore, but you know what I mean. When I first moved here, there were taxi cabs, but they aren't here anymore either. I Think what Ken is saying is that, if they took all our cars away, we would have to use public transportation, and they would have to provide it for us because the need would be there. Well maybe, or maybe not. They could just take our cars away and leave us with nothing. Even if they did provide public transportation, it would only take us to where they wanted us to go, not necessarily where we wanted to go. No thanks, we'll just keep our cars.
Looking back on it, the Vietnam War was just as complicated as the Mideast conflicts are today. Those weren't simpler times, we were just simpler people.
Validated
Damn! Uncle Ken does it again: "There is just no clarity any more." Something new to gnaw on, as the Old Dog crawls back under the porch to think about it...
Forget the mideast for now. What about the tens of thousands of Russian troops amassing along the Ukranian border, purportedly for a military "exercise?" Or the heightened tension between Japan and China regarding their territorial waters? And the Philippines talking about leaving the UN? The German government is getting ready to tell their citizens to stockpile food and drinking water in case of attack or catastrophe, according to the London Telegraph. Yikes! Things are getting out of hand. Our presidential election is starting to look more like a sideshow and diversion than the main event. So, yeah, a little clarity would be welcome.
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Mr. Beagles' comment about validation is much in line with my own thoughts, and I'm glad that Uncle Ken agrees. I was thinking that cat paintings would be his ticket to fame and fortune. Folks love their cats.
I have a different path to validation, using the gizmos I post to Thingiverse. Those objects are all things that I've found useful or amusing and I have the conceit that some other people might also find them useful or amusing. And indeed they do, at least to the extent that they download the files or say they like them. I also have a bunch of folks, world-wide, who "follow" my work, which is kind of neat.
To continue to toot my own horn, last summer one of the 3D printing news sites had an article about one of my projects (https://3dprint.com/84284/pvc-pipe-construction-kit/), so I can say, in truth, that I have a global, albeit minuscule, reputation.
And since nothing on the internet ever disappears I can take a little comfort in the fact that my crap is immortal, just like the timeless writings of this blog. Future generations may well ponder the musings of the BeagleBoys...
Forget the mideast for now. What about the tens of thousands of Russian troops amassing along the Ukranian border, purportedly for a military "exercise?" Or the heightened tension between Japan and China regarding their territorial waters? And the Philippines talking about leaving the UN? The German government is getting ready to tell their citizens to stockpile food and drinking water in case of attack or catastrophe, according to the London Telegraph. Yikes! Things are getting out of hand. Our presidential election is starting to look more like a sideshow and diversion than the main event. So, yeah, a little clarity would be welcome.
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Mr. Beagles' comment about validation is much in line with my own thoughts, and I'm glad that Uncle Ken agrees. I was thinking that cat paintings would be his ticket to fame and fortune. Folks love their cats.
I have a different path to validation, using the gizmos I post to Thingiverse. Those objects are all things that I've found useful or amusing and I have the conceit that some other people might also find them useful or amusing. And indeed they do, at least to the extent that they download the files or say they like them. I also have a bunch of folks, world-wide, who "follow" my work, which is kind of neat.
To continue to toot my own horn, last summer one of the 3D printing news sites had an article about one of my projects (https://3dprint.com/84284/pvc-pipe-construction-kit/), so I can say, in truth, that I have a global, albeit minuscule, reputation.
And since nothing on the internet ever disappears I can take a little comfort in the fact that my crap is immortal, just like the timeless writings of this blog. Future generations may well ponder the musings of the BeagleBoys...
the clarity of the sixties
Yes validation, you have hit the nail on the head Beagles. It's not the
money, but the fact that somebody would actually pay money for it that
makes me think I am doing something worthwhile. Why should that matter,
if it's all about to my own self being true? It shouldn't, but it
does.
People generally don't like portraits of themselves, they generally think it doesn't look like them, Maybe they suspect the artist is making fun of them in some subtle way. Cats are always good because, although they have different patterns in their fur, otherwise they look alike. Somebody is always saying something like, oh that looks like my cat. Cats are the best sellers. I did a whole bunch of portraits once from photographs by a Victorian photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron. People liked them well enough but nobody bought any. Later somebody told me something like, nobody likes a bunch of strangers hanging from their walls.
I don't like the idea of using art to promote some way of thinking., It's kind of a sneaky thing to do, and somebody who thinks the opposite can use it to promote the opposite way of thinking. You know me, I think appeals to a new way of thinking should be grounded in logic and discussions.
Even in a small town, if people didn't drive cars, there would be enough of them to support a mass transit system. I expect Cheboygan had streetcars before it had a lot of cars, maybe even an interurban to carry people between all the towns around it.
I watched the Falcon and the Snowman Saturday night. It began with a montage of videos from the sixties, LBJ, Nixon, bombs falling from a great silver plane. Ah the sixties, all it takes is a grainy photo to take you right back, right back Jack.
It struck me that it was a time of such clarity. Everybody knew where they stood on the unpopular war. My ilk (foolishly I'll admit in the fullness of time) thought it was a war of independence, not unlike the one our brave colonists fought back in 1776. The other ilk (foolishly again I'll assert) thought of it in turn of dominoes, if we don't stop the commies there next thing you know we will be fighting them at the front gate of our freeholds. But the point is everybody knew where they stood, and everybody was damn sure that they were right,
Anymore these mideast wars, nobody even knows where we are fighting. We are still in Afghanistan but we don't hear much about our guys getting killed anymore so I think we are just hanging back. We are out of Iraq, but we have some guys there who are doing something. Then we have our jets flying all over, and we have those drones, and those special ops teams that pop up now and again.
There are some people who want us to get out, and there are some who want to double down, but most people just don't know. Those ISIS guys, pretty bad dudes, we should do something about them, but we don't want to have our guys in there like we once did. Generally the republicans wanted to do more than what the prez was doing, but they didn't care to specify what that something was. The big girl and the prez claim they are doing plenty, but it's complicated blah, blah, blah.
And it is complicated. That busted up dirty and bloody kid was all over the news tugging at our hearts, how can we let this happen? It was Syrian government bombs that did it, and surely that Assad is a bad bad man, but also against him is ISIS who are badder men. So if we are fighting Assad we are helping ISIS and if we are fighting ISIS we are helping Assad.
There is just no clarity any more.
People generally don't like portraits of themselves, they generally think it doesn't look like them, Maybe they suspect the artist is making fun of them in some subtle way. Cats are always good because, although they have different patterns in their fur, otherwise they look alike. Somebody is always saying something like, oh that looks like my cat. Cats are the best sellers. I did a whole bunch of portraits once from photographs by a Victorian photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron. People liked them well enough but nobody bought any. Later somebody told me something like, nobody likes a bunch of strangers hanging from their walls.
I don't like the idea of using art to promote some way of thinking., It's kind of a sneaky thing to do, and somebody who thinks the opposite can use it to promote the opposite way of thinking. You know me, I think appeals to a new way of thinking should be grounded in logic and discussions.
Even in a small town, if people didn't drive cars, there would be enough of them to support a mass transit system. I expect Cheboygan had streetcars before it had a lot of cars, maybe even an interurban to carry people between all the towns around it.
I watched the Falcon and the Snowman Saturday night. It began with a montage of videos from the sixties, LBJ, Nixon, bombs falling from a great silver plane. Ah the sixties, all it takes is a grainy photo to take you right back, right back Jack.
It struck me that it was a time of such clarity. Everybody knew where they stood on the unpopular war. My ilk (foolishly I'll admit in the fullness of time) thought it was a war of independence, not unlike the one our brave colonists fought back in 1776. The other ilk (foolishly again I'll assert) thought of it in turn of dominoes, if we don't stop the commies there next thing you know we will be fighting them at the front gate of our freeholds. But the point is everybody knew where they stood, and everybody was damn sure that they were right,
Anymore these mideast wars, nobody even knows where we are fighting. We are still in Afghanistan but we don't hear much about our guys getting killed anymore so I think we are just hanging back. We are out of Iraq, but we have some guys there who are doing something. Then we have our jets flying all over, and we have those drones, and those special ops teams that pop up now and again.
There are some people who want us to get out, and there are some who want to double down, but most people just don't know. Those ISIS guys, pretty bad dudes, we should do something about them, but we don't want to have our guys in there like we once did. Generally the republicans wanted to do more than what the prez was doing, but they didn't care to specify what that something was. The big girl and the prez claim they are doing plenty, but it's complicated blah, blah, blah.
And it is complicated. That busted up dirty and bloody kid was all over the news tugging at our hearts, how can we let this happen? It was Syrian government bombs that did it, and surely that Assad is a bad bad man, but also against him is ISIS who are badder men. So if we are fighting Assad we are helping ISIS and if we are fighting ISIS we are helping Assad.
There is just no clarity any more.
Friday, August 19, 2016
A Cheap Folksinger's Trick
I think I know what Ken is talking about, even if he doesn't. What he is searching for is validation through his art. It's not about money but, if somebody is willing to pay money for a painting, it must be good, right? Well, not necessarily, all that proves is that one person likes it, and he might not know what he's talking about either. I'm inclined to say that it's more important to please yourself than it is to please others, but there must be exceptions to that.
I don't remember where I learned this, but I call it my cheap folksinger's trick. If you want somebody to like your song, put them in it. People love to hear songs about themselves. The pros carry it to another level, they try to give their songs universal appeal, which means that everybody who hears the song gets the impression that it was written specifically for them. I'm not sure how this would apply to painting, unless you wanted to get into portraits or caricatures. There's more to it than that, though. If you paint what you like, then you're only painting for yourself. Nothing wrong with that, but it might be more fun to paint for a wider audience. If you paint what other people like, it's kind of like you're selling out. The ideal would be, if you painted what you liked and other people liked it too. The trick must be to paint in such a way that others would be persuaded to your way of looking at the world. When other people do it to you, it's called brainwashing but, when you do it to other people, you are enlightening them for their own good.
We have something like the British ASBO, it's called "disorderly conduct". I don't think many people are prosecuted for it, it's just an excuse to take them out of circulation for awhile before they hurt themselves, they hurt somebody else, or somebody else hurts them. That's probably why those armed demonstrators agreed to put their guns away when asked to do so by the police. Carrying a loaded firearm in a crowded, emotionally charged environment may be legal, but it also may be dangerous. To insist on exercising their right to bear arms at the expense of public safety would be irresponsible, and no law abiding gun toting citizen would want anybody to think that they were irresponsible.
Public transportation is fine for the big cities, but there aren't enough people around here to make it worthwhile. We have some kind of dial-a-ride shuttle bus service, but I don't know how much use it gets. It must be subsidized by the state or federal government, and I suppose it fills a need, but most people would rather drive their own cars if they are able.
I don't remember where I learned this, but I call it my cheap folksinger's trick. If you want somebody to like your song, put them in it. People love to hear songs about themselves. The pros carry it to another level, they try to give their songs universal appeal, which means that everybody who hears the song gets the impression that it was written specifically for them. I'm not sure how this would apply to painting, unless you wanted to get into portraits or caricatures. There's more to it than that, though. If you paint what you like, then you're only painting for yourself. Nothing wrong with that, but it might be more fun to paint for a wider audience. If you paint what other people like, it's kind of like you're selling out. The ideal would be, if you painted what you liked and other people liked it too. The trick must be to paint in such a way that others would be persuaded to your way of looking at the world. When other people do it to you, it's called brainwashing but, when you do it to other people, you are enlightening them for their own good.
We have something like the British ASBO, it's called "disorderly conduct". I don't think many people are prosecuted for it, it's just an excuse to take them out of circulation for awhile before they hurt themselves, they hurt somebody else, or somebody else hurts them. That's probably why those armed demonstrators agreed to put their guns away when asked to do so by the police. Carrying a loaded firearm in a crowded, emotionally charged environment may be legal, but it also may be dangerous. To insist on exercising their right to bear arms at the expense of public safety would be irresponsible, and no law abiding gun toting citizen would want anybody to think that they were irresponsible.
Public transportation is fine for the big cities, but there aren't enough people around here to make it worthwhile. We have some kind of dial-a-ride shuttle bus service, but I don't know how much use it gets. It must be subsidized by the state or federal government, and I suppose it fills a need, but most people would rather drive their own cars if they are able.
Friday, already
Do the folks in Kalamazoo still affectionately refer to their hometown as K-Zoo or Kazoo? I heard those terms many years ago, like the nickname Chi-Town. Does Cheboygan have a like nickname?
Anyhow, brandishing anything these days is likely to attract unneeded attention from authorities. You could roll up a newspaper and if you're walking down the street and wildly flailing it about, well, reasonable people might find it disturbing.
In England there is a thing called ASBO (Anti-Social Behavior Order) which allows the authorities to write up or arrest people who are being asses. I don't know how broadly it is implemented or effective it is as a deterrent , but it's something. They don't have a reputation as a Nanny State for nothing; their permanent records must be vast.
-----
It's funny that Mr. Beagles suggests a possible weapon threat with the PVC pipe. Last summer I needed a lot of it, maybe 150ft, for another project. It's sold in 10ft lengths, and I had to use public transportation (bus) for the trips to Home Depot and the hardware stores. Easy enough when you cut each piece and bundle them all with zip-ties, but it's unusual looking and a bit clumsy to handle. I had to be very careful not to smack someone in the face or break some windows, and my fellow passengers eyed me very warily.
-----
Uncle Ken has helpfully explained why I've been feeling a loss of brain function: "...the more that I think about it the less I know what I am talking about." It must be time to sharpen and hone Occam's Razor.
But he forgets one thing in his "shining new socialist world of public trans." It doesn't work when you have to haul a lot of crap around. It is no joy to be on a bus/train when there are strollers, shopping carts, and big bags all over the place and you have a goofball bundle PVC pipe.
It's different if you throw Uber/Lyft and taxi cabs into the mix of public transportation. Adding some kind of on-demand pickup truck service could solve a lot of problems.
This is primarily a complex urban issue, and not easily solved.
Anyhow, brandishing anything these days is likely to attract unneeded attention from authorities. You could roll up a newspaper and if you're walking down the street and wildly flailing it about, well, reasonable people might find it disturbing.
In England there is a thing called ASBO (Anti-Social Behavior Order) which allows the authorities to write up or arrest people who are being asses. I don't know how broadly it is implemented or effective it is as a deterrent , but it's something. They don't have a reputation as a Nanny State for nothing; their permanent records must be vast.
-----
It's funny that Mr. Beagles suggests a possible weapon threat with the PVC pipe. Last summer I needed a lot of it, maybe 150ft, for another project. It's sold in 10ft lengths, and I had to use public transportation (bus) for the trips to Home Depot and the hardware stores. Easy enough when you cut each piece and bundle them all with zip-ties, but it's unusual looking and a bit clumsy to handle. I had to be very careful not to smack someone in the face or break some windows, and my fellow passengers eyed me very warily.
-----
Uncle Ken has helpfully explained why I've been feeling a loss of brain function: "...the more that I think about it the less I know what I am talking about." It must be time to sharpen and hone Occam's Razor.
But he forgets one thing in his "shining new socialist world of public trans." It doesn't work when you have to haul a lot of crap around. It is no joy to be on a bus/train when there are strollers, shopping carts, and big bags all over the place and you have a goofball bundle PVC pipe.
It's different if you throw Uber/Lyft and taxi cabs into the mix of public transportation. Adding some kind of on-demand pickup truck service could solve a lot of problems.
This is primarily a complex urban issue, and not easily solved.
being true to thine own self
Weren't there some armed demonstrators at the Republican convention?
I seem to recall that the police asked them to disarm themselves and
they did, but what if they had refused? What kind of open carry is it
if the police can tell you not to do it?
I wouldn't have thought that brandish had anything to do with menacing, I thought it meant like to display proudly. Strange how we get to know words, it's not like we are formally introduced to them, it's more like they are people in a bar or a school, or some other kind of social institution, you go from a time where you didn't know them to a time when they are your friend but you don't remember ever meeting them.
Ever have one of those new-word-a-day calendars? Me neither, but it would be interesting to see how it would effect your life. You would be striking up all these casual conversations and trying to maneuver the subject around to where you could brandish your new word. People would think you were strange, but maybe some would find you interesting. I wonder if it would help in the picking up of chicks.
I'm not sure what I mean by this whole promoting your art, monetizing your hobby thing. It's just kind of a vague thing, like a beach ball, that I want to toss around for a bit and then leave resting in the sand.
I was thinking of another thing. That Amy Winehouse documentary. What she really wanted to be was like a jazz singer, you know something arty, something that would bring respect among a small but avid group of fans. But then she hit it big, and fell for the big shtick and then she was competing with the likes of Taylor Swift and Beyonce who are really just businesses with a trifling concern with art, and she crashed and burned.
Well maybe she would have crashed and burned anyway, but I think that once you get into that big pop thing, that you have kind of lost your soul.
Whatever the hell that means. Whatever the hell 'better person' means. Am I a better person for spending the morning painting with all my pretensions, or might I just as well be watching tv reruns or smoking crack? As far as the betterment of the human condition and society are concerned it is the same difference.
But why should I care what other people think? Should I not to my own self be true? But aren't the guys watching the reruns and smoking all the crack also being true to themselves? But then it all sort of works out. Obviously I don't think much of the tv watcher or the crack smoker, but why should they care what I think? Aren't they being true to themselves anyway?
It's not money. There is a woman in the building who gives art talks and she talks about this and that artist and how everybody thought he was nuts but then, and here she pauses, his paintings now sell for gazillions of bucks, and the crowd gasps. But so what? What does that have to do with art? What does the price of a Honus Wagner baseball card have to do with baseball?
I'm kind of sorry I brought this whole subject up because the more that I think about it the less I know what I am talking about.
In the shining new socialist world of public trans you wouldn't have those accessibility problems. Since everybody would be taking public trans the trains would be running way more often and they would be running everywhere.
Actually Old Dog you made two brush holders and one I use at home and the other is my travel brush holder. We watercolorists are constantly complaining about our palettes, they don't have enough sections for the paint, or space in the middle for mixing colors, and everyone of us would like a different kind of palette. Oh if only somebody with a 3d printer could make individual palettes.
There would be a monetization of a hobby, but then Old Dog would have to spend a lot of time dealing with fussy and scatterbrained watercolorists so I don't know.
Alright then. Another weekend, another chance for me to locate that box with the report cards and check out what kind of things would earn you a checkmark. And time to look into that thingiverse thing. Well I just did, and I got to the Sears Tower thing, but I am wondering if there is a place to go to see all of Old Dogs contraptions in one place.
I wouldn't have thought that brandish had anything to do with menacing, I thought it meant like to display proudly. Strange how we get to know words, it's not like we are formally introduced to them, it's more like they are people in a bar or a school, or some other kind of social institution, you go from a time where you didn't know them to a time when they are your friend but you don't remember ever meeting them.
Ever have one of those new-word-a-day calendars? Me neither, but it would be interesting to see how it would effect your life. You would be striking up all these casual conversations and trying to maneuver the subject around to where you could brandish your new word. People would think you were strange, but maybe some would find you interesting. I wonder if it would help in the picking up of chicks.
I'm not sure what I mean by this whole promoting your art, monetizing your hobby thing. It's just kind of a vague thing, like a beach ball, that I want to toss around for a bit and then leave resting in the sand.
I was thinking of another thing. That Amy Winehouse documentary. What she really wanted to be was like a jazz singer, you know something arty, something that would bring respect among a small but avid group of fans. But then she hit it big, and fell for the big shtick and then she was competing with the likes of Taylor Swift and Beyonce who are really just businesses with a trifling concern with art, and she crashed and burned.
Well maybe she would have crashed and burned anyway, but I think that once you get into that big pop thing, that you have kind of lost your soul.
Whatever the hell that means. Whatever the hell 'better person' means. Am I a better person for spending the morning painting with all my pretensions, or might I just as well be watching tv reruns or smoking crack? As far as the betterment of the human condition and society are concerned it is the same difference.
But why should I care what other people think? Should I not to my own self be true? But aren't the guys watching the reruns and smoking all the crack also being true to themselves? But then it all sort of works out. Obviously I don't think much of the tv watcher or the crack smoker, but why should they care what I think? Aren't they being true to themselves anyway?
It's not money. There is a woman in the building who gives art talks and she talks about this and that artist and how everybody thought he was nuts but then, and here she pauses, his paintings now sell for gazillions of bucks, and the crowd gasps. But so what? What does that have to do with art? What does the price of a Honus Wagner baseball card have to do with baseball?
I'm kind of sorry I brought this whole subject up because the more that I think about it the less I know what I am talking about.
In the shining new socialist world of public trans you wouldn't have those accessibility problems. Since everybody would be taking public trans the trains would be running way more often and they would be running everywhere.
Actually Old Dog you made two brush holders and one I use at home and the other is my travel brush holder. We watercolorists are constantly complaining about our palettes, they don't have enough sections for the paint, or space in the middle for mixing colors, and everyone of us would like a different kind of palette. Oh if only somebody with a 3d printer could make individual palettes.
There would be a monetization of a hobby, but then Old Dog would have to spend a lot of time dealing with fussy and scatterbrained watercolorists so I don't know.
Alright then. Another weekend, another chance for me to locate that box with the report cards and check out what kind of things would earn you a checkmark. And time to look into that thingiverse thing. Well I just did, and I got to the Sears Tower thing, but I am wondering if there is a place to go to see all of Old Dogs contraptions in one place.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Brandishing Your Art
That incident in Kalamazoo is a good example of what I was talking about. The guy wasn't breaking any laws, but he was making people nervous, which could be construed as a threat to public safety, so the police had to do something. By confiscating the rifle, they neutralized the situation and, by returning it the next day, nobody's rights were violated. I think that, if somebody tried to openly carry a gun on the Mackinac Bridge Walk, the cops would do something similar. They are allowed to hold you for questioning for 24 hours, and then they have to either charge you with something or release you. I think that's what happens to most of the people who are arrested during a riot or demonstration. The idea is to get them off the street until everybody calms down, and then they let them go. I don't blame the cops, it's their job to maintain law and order, and sometimes they have a fine line to walk.
My dictionary defines "brandish" as "To shake or wave (as a weapon) menacingly." I can see where a lawyer might have fun with that. "Your Honor, my client was not waving his gun menacingly, he was just showing it to his friends, who were standing all around him, and he wanted to make sure that they all got a good look at it." If Uncle Ken was trying to show one of his paintings to his friends at the Ten Cat, he might do the same thing, but nobody would get nervous about that because most people don't consider a painting to be a dangerous weapon. Speaking of dangerous weapons, Old Dog's paint brush holder looks like it could be used to launch tactical rockets or mortar rounds. I wouldn't advise displaying that on Michigan Avenue, it might make people nervous and get you a night in the slammer.
Speaking of Old Dog, he says that "monetizing hobbies" is not the same thing as promoting your art. I don't know much about art, but I think anything that you do for fun that doesn't make you any money can be considered a hobby. Well, you could make some money, but not enough to justify quitting your day job. For 15 years I performed songs and stories at an annual event that was co-sponsored by the Bliss Fest and the Petoskey Public Library. We did it for free for the first few years, and then event's leader persuaded the sponsors to appropriate some money to pay the performers. First it was a hundred dollars, and then it was a hundred and fifty, not bad for 20 minutes work, but I could never figure out how to live on $150 a year.
My dictionary defines "brandish" as "To shake or wave (as a weapon) menacingly." I can see where a lawyer might have fun with that. "Your Honor, my client was not waving his gun menacingly, he was just showing it to his friends, who were standing all around him, and he wanted to make sure that they all got a good look at it." If Uncle Ken was trying to show one of his paintings to his friends at the Ten Cat, he might do the same thing, but nobody would get nervous about that because most people don't consider a painting to be a dangerous weapon. Speaking of dangerous weapons, Old Dog's paint brush holder looks like it could be used to launch tactical rockets or mortar rounds. I wouldn't advise displaying that on Michigan Avenue, it might make people nervous and get you a night in the slammer.
Speaking of Old Dog, he says that "monetizing hobbies" is not the same thing as promoting your art. I don't know much about art, but I think anything that you do for fun that doesn't make you any money can be considered a hobby. Well, you could make some money, but not enough to justify quitting your day job. For 15 years I performed songs and stories at an annual event that was co-sponsored by the Bliss Fest and the Petoskey Public Library. We did it for free for the first few years, and then event's leader persuaded the sponsors to appropriate some money to pay the performers. First it was a hundred dollars, and then it was a hundred and fifty, not bad for 20 minutes work, but I could never figure out how to live on $150 a year.
Under the porch
Old Dog has been under the porch, gnawing at the meaty ideas lately posted by Uncle Ken.
"Which is something like are you the better person for just plying your art and following your own course, or should you try to promote because otherwise it will just die with you."
I'm not clear on the question and how it relates to being a "better person." Can we tell if we are better people, or is it up for others to determine it? I don't know how "better" should be defined in this case. Happier? More successful? Healthier? Nebulous speculation, indeed. NebSpec?
When you die, your artwork doesn't disappear; it is simply no longer in production. Maybe it will be discovered as works of genius, and much moolah will be made by it's acquisition. Or maybe it will end up on the scrap heap, never to be seen again. Does it matter to the artist? No, he's dead.
I keep thinking of Van Gogh. Did his work die with him? I like his stuff, but it doesn't seem like he had a whole lot fun in it's creation, and he certainly didn't get rich from his paintings. He painted because he simply could not do otherwise, and there is opinion that he had a few personal issues.
Other artists, like Dali and Picasso, embraced the social aspects of the art world and were relentless in their self-promotion, becoming wealthy and successful in their own lifetimes. Is their stuff really any "better" than Van Gogh's?
Art is a subjective concept and it's definition changes over time. Where do you draw the lines between art, craft, and design? Is it the rarity of the object, and how should value be assigned?
It's a buyer's market. If the right people like your stuff you've got it made. But how do you attract the attention of the right people? I think the best solution, requiring a minimal level of self-promotion, is to get representation from a gallery and let them do handle it. Let them take their cut off the top, and you can get back to your painting. Maybe you'll sell more stuff, maybe not.
Another path is to enter juried exhibitions. They don't accept everything, and if you make the cut you'll get good exposure. Is there an ultimate goal?
In a response, Mr. Beagles wrote "You take something that's fun and make work out of it, and it's not as much fun anymore,"
This is also true, but I think he's talking about monetizing hobbies, which is different kettle of worms. It can be done, but it is not easy and it sucks the pleasure out of amateur endeavors. For some good examples you can research the many failed KickStarter projects.
These are not good answers but they're the only ones I have at this time, and I've given it a lot of thought over the years. More thinking and gnawing is required.
-----
Like Uncle Ken, I used to be a much bigger fan of cars than I am now. Used to be that you could tell a Ford from a Chevy or Plymouth a block away; not any more. Cars are much more practical today, with some exceptions like the cartoony 700hp Hellcat models from Dodge. Really, 700hp? Seems a bit much to me but apparently there are enough customers with more dollars than sense.
The big problem with public transportation is time; not all jobs are easily accessible. I've known people that had a one-way commute of over an hour via bus, subway, and much walking. It was longer in the wintertime so it can be a tough choice. For many, car ownership is a necessity, especially if a family is involved.
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Although some of my interests skew in the tech direction, I don't invent diddly-squat. I've designed some trivial objects and posted the files to Thingiverse, in case anyone else wants to check them out. For an example, Mr. Beagles can go here: http://www.thingiverse.com/thing:943205
I made Uncle Ken a half-height version for use as a brush holder, which I'll assume he still uses.
"Which is something like are you the better person for just plying your art and following your own course, or should you try to promote because otherwise it will just die with you."
I'm not clear on the question and how it relates to being a "better person." Can we tell if we are better people, or is it up for others to determine it? I don't know how "better" should be defined in this case. Happier? More successful? Healthier? Nebulous speculation, indeed. NebSpec?
When you die, your artwork doesn't disappear; it is simply no longer in production. Maybe it will be discovered as works of genius, and much moolah will be made by it's acquisition. Or maybe it will end up on the scrap heap, never to be seen again. Does it matter to the artist? No, he's dead.
I keep thinking of Van Gogh. Did his work die with him? I like his stuff, but it doesn't seem like he had a whole lot fun in it's creation, and he certainly didn't get rich from his paintings. He painted because he simply could not do otherwise, and there is opinion that he had a few personal issues.
Other artists, like Dali and Picasso, embraced the social aspects of the art world and were relentless in their self-promotion, becoming wealthy and successful in their own lifetimes. Is their stuff really any "better" than Van Gogh's?
Art is a subjective concept and it's definition changes over time. Where do you draw the lines between art, craft, and design? Is it the rarity of the object, and how should value be assigned?
It's a buyer's market. If the right people like your stuff you've got it made. But how do you attract the attention of the right people? I think the best solution, requiring a minimal level of self-promotion, is to get representation from a gallery and let them do handle it. Let them take their cut off the top, and you can get back to your painting. Maybe you'll sell more stuff, maybe not.
Another path is to enter juried exhibitions. They don't accept everything, and if you make the cut you'll get good exposure. Is there an ultimate goal?
In a response, Mr. Beagles wrote "You take something that's fun and make work out of it, and it's not as much fun anymore,"
This is also true, but I think he's talking about monetizing hobbies, which is different kettle of worms. It can be done, but it is not easy and it sucks the pleasure out of amateur endeavors. For some good examples you can research the many failed KickStarter projects.
These are not good answers but they're the only ones I have at this time, and I've given it a lot of thought over the years. More thinking and gnawing is required.
-----
Like Uncle Ken, I used to be a much bigger fan of cars than I am now. Used to be that you could tell a Ford from a Chevy or Plymouth a block away; not any more. Cars are much more practical today, with some exceptions like the cartoony 700hp Hellcat models from Dodge. Really, 700hp? Seems a bit much to me but apparently there are enough customers with more dollars than sense.
The big problem with public transportation is time; not all jobs are easily accessible. I've known people that had a one-way commute of over an hour via bus, subway, and much walking. It was longer in the wintertime so it can be a tough choice. For many, car ownership is a necessity, especially if a family is involved.
-----
Although some of my interests skew in the tech direction, I don't invent diddly-squat. I've designed some trivial objects and posted the files to Thingiverse, in case anyone else wants to check them out. For an example, Mr. Beagles can go here: http://www.thingiverse.com/thing:943205
I made Uncle Ken a half-height version for use as a brush holder, which I'll assume he still uses.
pleasing the muckety mucks
This whole 'brandishing' thing is new to me. Off to the google
machine. Apparently Michigan had an anti brandishing law on the books
and people wondered if that would negate open carry, but in the end they
decided that open carrying was not the same as brandishing. But then
what is brandishing?
http://www.mlive.com/news/kalamazoo/index.ssf/2014/05/open_carry.html There was some drunk outside a laundromat in Kalamazoo. That's almost a song isn't it
I got drunk with my rifle in Kalamazoo
Thought I'd brandish it a bit and get my duds sudsed too.
Open-carry rights came under the spotlight in Kalamazoo last Sunday, after police got calls about a man carrying a rifle on a city sidewalk outside a Cork Street laundromat.
You know the reason these guys want to pack heat is so that they can protect themselves, and who needs more protection than a drunk? They ought to hand out handguns to everybody leaving the bar at closing time.
You're right Beagles, even though I live in the Hog Butcher of the World, I would not consider butchering a hog as a fun activity.
At one point when I was subbing and collecting social security I was just getting by. Well not actually getting by, I was coming out a little short at the end of every month and I thought gee, if I could just sell like maybe three paintings a month, i would be getting by. But I never did achieve that level of success.
But you get to thinking. Right now I just paint whatever I am in the mood to do, basically whatever is fun. I don't even care that much whether or not it is pretty as long as it is interesting to paint. Well it's not just fun, well it is fun, but it's like serious fun, like i do a lot of thinking about it. I formulate and discard theories, if it devolves that I will have to paint a thousand windows to depict a cityscape, well that is just what I will have to do, tedious as that might sound, though once I get to doing it, it is never all that boring. As much as I detest that flowery talk about art, I am following my path and i am true to it.
But if I had to sell, why things would be different. Nobody wants to buy muffins from a baker who is true to his own path. They want to buy muffins from the guy who tries to bakes them just the way everybody likes them.
I suppose I could try to paint the way I thought everybody wanted, but the high art muckety mucks would look down their noses at me. I would be selling out. They don't want to eat the same muffin every morning, they want something new and different, they want to learn something. You can tell when somebody is just trying to please and when somebody is following their own path, and somebody who is following their own path is always more interesting because you don't know where it is going to go, but somebody who is trying to please everybody, you always know where that guy is going.
And you're right, it is more fun when you are going your own way, and more work when you are just doing it to please somebody. I'm trying to work out an analogy to hog butchering, but I just can't. But anyway if would be a job if I was trying to please everybody.
But maybe I would be into it for the money, so what is wrong with that? But you know if i was really into it for the money, for the big money, which you can only get if you please the muckety mucks, the thing to do would be to paint in such a way that it looked like I was following my own path, but what I would subtly be doing is figuring out what would please the muckety mucks.
And maybe that is what art is all about. Generally you don't see the art of guys who weren't trying to promote themselves in those big fancy books, only the art of those who not only promoted themselves, but did it well.
So maybe that is part of art, not only following your path, but appealing subtly to the muckety mucks as well, maybe that is what it is all about. What do you think Gentlemen. And speaking of gentlemen, where is Old Dog?
http://www.mlive.com/news/kalamazoo/index.ssf/2014/05/open_carry.html There was some drunk outside a laundromat in Kalamazoo. That's almost a song isn't it
I got drunk with my rifle in Kalamazoo
Thought I'd brandish it a bit and get my duds sudsed too.
The
man, who didn't have a sling for the rifle and was shifting it from
shoulder to shoulder, unleashed a string of obscenities toward Kalamazoo
Department of Public Safety officers who responded. Officers ended up seizing the rifle, but returning it the next day and ultimately police decided no laws had been broken.
Assistant Chief Donald Webster said the department decided not to forward the case to the prosecutor for a misdemeanor charge of brandishing a firearm in public because even though the man was said to be “fidgeting” with the rifle, it was not evident that he was "brandishing" it.
So I guess fidgeting is fine, but don't let it cross the line to
brandishing. So those terrorists on the Mackinac Bridge Walk would be
well advised to limit their handling of the semi automatics to
fidgeting.You know the reason these guys want to pack heat is so that they can protect themselves, and who needs more protection than a drunk? They ought to hand out handguns to everybody leaving the bar at closing time.
You're right Beagles, even though I live in the Hog Butcher of the World, I would not consider butchering a hog as a fun activity.
At one point when I was subbing and collecting social security I was just getting by. Well not actually getting by, I was coming out a little short at the end of every month and I thought gee, if I could just sell like maybe three paintings a month, i would be getting by. But I never did achieve that level of success.
But you get to thinking. Right now I just paint whatever I am in the mood to do, basically whatever is fun. I don't even care that much whether or not it is pretty as long as it is interesting to paint. Well it's not just fun, well it is fun, but it's like serious fun, like i do a lot of thinking about it. I formulate and discard theories, if it devolves that I will have to paint a thousand windows to depict a cityscape, well that is just what I will have to do, tedious as that might sound, though once I get to doing it, it is never all that boring. As much as I detest that flowery talk about art, I am following my path and i am true to it.
But if I had to sell, why things would be different. Nobody wants to buy muffins from a baker who is true to his own path. They want to buy muffins from the guy who tries to bakes them just the way everybody likes them.
I suppose I could try to paint the way I thought everybody wanted, but the high art muckety mucks would look down their noses at me. I would be selling out. They don't want to eat the same muffin every morning, they want something new and different, they want to learn something. You can tell when somebody is just trying to please and when somebody is following their own path, and somebody who is following their own path is always more interesting because you don't know where it is going to go, but somebody who is trying to please everybody, you always know where that guy is going.
And you're right, it is more fun when you are going your own way, and more work when you are just doing it to please somebody. I'm trying to work out an analogy to hog butchering, but I just can't. But anyway if would be a job if I was trying to please everybody.
But maybe I would be into it for the money, so what is wrong with that? But you know if i was really into it for the money, for the big money, which you can only get if you please the muckety mucks, the thing to do would be to paint in such a way that it looked like I was following my own path, but what I would subtly be doing is figuring out what would please the muckety mucks.
And maybe that is what art is all about. Generally you don't see the art of guys who weren't trying to promote themselves in those big fancy books, only the art of those who not only promoted themselves, but did it well.
So maybe that is part of art, not only following your path, but appealing subtly to the muckety mucks as well, maybe that is what it is all about. What do you think Gentlemen. And speaking of gentlemen, where is Old Dog?
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
The Perils of Turning Pro
We have talked about this open carry thing before. The law says that you can carry a loaded firearm down Main Street as long as you don't conceal it. Just try it once, though, and see how far you get. Some time ago there were some people who were trying to prove that point, but I haven't heard about them lately, and I don't know if they gained anything for all their efforts. Last I heard, the Michigan legislature was trying to define the word "brandishing" because brandishing a firearm is illegal in this state, but the law did not say exactly what that means. I haven't heard how that one came out, or even if it came out. Maybe they're still working on it.
I didn't know that Michigan was the eighth most populous state in the U.S. but, when I think about it, it makes sense. Some of the states on the East Coast must have more people per square mile, but they have less square miles. California has lots of people and lots of square miles, but the population in most of the large Western states is spread out pretty thin. I seem to remember that Michigan lost some population in the last census, and we now have one less electoral vote than we used to. The southern half of the Lower Peninsula has the densest population in Michigan, the northern half is much less dense, and the U.P. is the least densest of all three.
When the paper mill was closing down, we were all racking our brains trying to figure out how we could turn one of our hobbies into a paying job. Some of them were already doing that, they considered the paper mill to be a second job that they took 20 or 30 years ago to help make ends meet, just till they could get their business up and running. I don't know how it turned out for most of them, but my experience was that you were further ahead to put your money in a mutual fund than to invest it in a small business. I imagine that artistic endeavors are not all that much different. You still have a product that you need to sell and, if your production costs exceed the market price of your product, you will lose money. Most professional musicians travel a lot, and they don't let you ride in railroad freight cars anymore, even if you tell them you are a genuine folk singer who needs the experience so you can write songs about it. I don't think artists need to travel as much, but they still need to market their product. You guys would know more about that than me.
Then you have to calculate what your time is worth. Some say that you can't count your time when you're self employed, but I don't think that's true. If you can make more per hour working at minimum wage, then every hour you spend on your art is a losing proposition. I suppose that's not as important for retired people like us, but you still need to figure what else you could be doing with your time that might be more productive, or at least less costly. For instance, do I mow my own lawn, or do I pay somebody else to do it while I paint? Okay, you city slickers don't have lawns, but you get the idea.
Then there's the fun part. You take something that's fun and make work out of it, and it's not as much fun anymore. I have done a little farm butchering in my day, and it was fun. You guys wouldn't like it, but I'm an earthy kind of guy who enjoys natural stuff like that, so I took a job working in a small slaughter house. Now it seems logical that, if butchering one pig is fun, then butchering 35 pigs would be even more fun, but it's not. After the third or fourth pig, I was getting tired of it and, by the end of the day, I swore that I would never butcher another pig again, and I never have.
I didn't know that Michigan was the eighth most populous state in the U.S. but, when I think about it, it makes sense. Some of the states on the East Coast must have more people per square mile, but they have less square miles. California has lots of people and lots of square miles, but the population in most of the large Western states is spread out pretty thin. I seem to remember that Michigan lost some population in the last census, and we now have one less electoral vote than we used to. The southern half of the Lower Peninsula has the densest population in Michigan, the northern half is much less dense, and the U.P. is the least densest of all three.
When the paper mill was closing down, we were all racking our brains trying to figure out how we could turn one of our hobbies into a paying job. Some of them were already doing that, they considered the paper mill to be a second job that they took 20 or 30 years ago to help make ends meet, just till they could get their business up and running. I don't know how it turned out for most of them, but my experience was that you were further ahead to put your money in a mutual fund than to invest it in a small business. I imagine that artistic endeavors are not all that much different. You still have a product that you need to sell and, if your production costs exceed the market price of your product, you will lose money. Most professional musicians travel a lot, and they don't let you ride in railroad freight cars anymore, even if you tell them you are a genuine folk singer who needs the experience so you can write songs about it. I don't think artists need to travel as much, but they still need to market their product. You guys would know more about that than me.
Then you have to calculate what your time is worth. Some say that you can't count your time when you're self employed, but I don't think that's true. If you can make more per hour working at minimum wage, then every hour you spend on your art is a losing proposition. I suppose that's not as important for retired people like us, but you still need to figure what else you could be doing with your time that might be more productive, or at least less costly. For instance, do I mow my own lawn, or do I pay somebody else to do it while I paint? Okay, you city slickers don't have lawns, but you get the idea.
Then there's the fun part. You take something that's fun and make work out of it, and it's not as much fun anymore. I have done a little farm butchering in my day, and it was fun. You guys wouldn't like it, but I'm an earthy kind of guy who enjoys natural stuff like that, so I took a job working in a small slaughter house. Now it seems logical that, if butchering one pig is fun, then butchering 35 pigs would be even more fun, but it's not. After the third or fourth pig, I was getting tired of it and, by the end of the day, I swore that I would never butcher another pig again, and I never have.
tend your garden or shoot for the stars
I know it's not the intent of those Report Suspicious Activity
announcements to make people afraid, but what I was wondering if that
was the effect. We all know Nervous Nellies who get all worked up by, oh Ebola for example, and I wonder if
hearing these announcements all the time increases their nervousness
because frankly I don't see what they are so nervous about. They should
be nervous when driving their cars and smoking their cigarettes rather
than fretting over nutballs.
I see where Michigan has open carry without a license or permit, so I guess it would be no trouble at all for a bunch of terrorist guys and gals to carry semi automatics over their shoulders along the route. Why bother to conceal something on a bus when you can carry your firearm outside your pants for all the honest world to see?
I don't think either of my colleagues flies very often, but the airports ring with messages of warning. Used to be they would warn you to not leave your bags out of your sight, and people with stacks of bags around their seats who had to take a leak would say, yeah right. I think they say something different now, but i am not sure, they are so ubiquitous that I never listen to them anymore.
I have noticed a few Hilary ads, and maybe one Trump one. This would have been on CNN so maybe it was nationwide otherwise why would they broadcast into true blue Illinois. You know Old Dog and I could fuss and fret about our votes and maybe consider Ben and Jerry or Jill The Green, but of course it doesn't matter at all. We could vote our consciences or the lesser of two evils, or toss it away, or bury it deep in the dark garden of Whatshisname the Anti Trump guy, or we could just stay home. Either way Illinois's 20 electoral votes go for the big girl.
Hum, Michigan's too, according to some internet map, where I was surprised to learn that Michigan gets 16 electoral votes which makes it the 8th most populous state in the union. Where do all those people live?
That movie I saw, where I heard the announcement to watch out for folks setting fire to their shoes or underwear was about this improv group, kind of just barely getting by. They all have rich parents or have to work these low level jobs to support themselves while they follow their dreams. For all that they are a jolly group joking with each other, having each others' backs etc. But as the movie opens their theater is being bought on and the new owners are giving them the boot. Then word comes down that there will be a talent scout from a Saturday Night Life show in the audience. The best of the performers hogs the stage and gets the big gig, and the rest of the troupe are bitter, before the sappy Hollywood ending.
So who was right? The big star who essentially sold out or the loyal troupe who, let's face it, is going nowhere? Sometimes my improv group gets the idea of going beyond our quarterly senior citizens show, but then it kind of sputters out on the rocks of Who Is Going To Pay Real Money To See Us? I was sitting at the bar a few weeks ago and one of my fellow exhibitors, who had the current show, had this notebook and was making big plans to promote his art to rich people he knew. Lots of luck, I thought, and ordered another Daisy Cutter.
R Crumb of underground comix fame also plays in kind of a turn of the century band, The Cheap Suit Serenaders. He got to pontificating about it in this really great movie about him, and what he was talking about was that before Edison invented the record player if you wanted to hear music you had to pay a band. Since a lot of people wanted to hear music this meant a lot of work for a lot of bands and music reigned throughout the land.
But then when people could listen to record players they didn't need to pay any bands, and a lot of them had to find day jobs and stop playing. And also, because some bands got recorded and some didn't, some bands were considered great and some not so great, which was probably happening before recording but not so much.
Beagles used to be involved with the Bliss Music Festival, which I gather was kind of a nice little folksy group, but then the guys running it got big ideas to increase the audience and started letting in rock and roll bands which offended Beagles and he no longer is involved in the festival.
Old Dog is one of those tech guys. He has a 3d printer and other devices, invents various things, and posts them on the internet and gets responses, but has as yet, not hit in big in the tech world. Maybe if he got the ear of money guys or something he could hit it big, Maybe not.
I've simplified the roles of Beagles and Old Dog, for the convenience of my argument.
Which is something like are you the better person for just plying your art and following your own course, or should you try to promote because otherwise it will just die with you. Myself I am generally in favor of the latter, but I have my doubts about it.
So I'm looking for your opinions on this nebulous speculation.
I see where Michigan has open carry without a license or permit, so I guess it would be no trouble at all for a bunch of terrorist guys and gals to carry semi automatics over their shoulders along the route. Why bother to conceal something on a bus when you can carry your firearm outside your pants for all the honest world to see?
I don't think either of my colleagues flies very often, but the airports ring with messages of warning. Used to be they would warn you to not leave your bags out of your sight, and people with stacks of bags around their seats who had to take a leak would say, yeah right. I think they say something different now, but i am not sure, they are so ubiquitous that I never listen to them anymore.
I have noticed a few Hilary ads, and maybe one Trump one. This would have been on CNN so maybe it was nationwide otherwise why would they broadcast into true blue Illinois. You know Old Dog and I could fuss and fret about our votes and maybe consider Ben and Jerry or Jill The Green, but of course it doesn't matter at all. We could vote our consciences or the lesser of two evils, or toss it away, or bury it deep in the dark garden of Whatshisname the Anti Trump guy, or we could just stay home. Either way Illinois's 20 electoral votes go for the big girl.
Hum, Michigan's too, according to some internet map, where I was surprised to learn that Michigan gets 16 electoral votes which makes it the 8th most populous state in the union. Where do all those people live?
That movie I saw, where I heard the announcement to watch out for folks setting fire to their shoes or underwear was about this improv group, kind of just barely getting by. They all have rich parents or have to work these low level jobs to support themselves while they follow their dreams. For all that they are a jolly group joking with each other, having each others' backs etc. But as the movie opens their theater is being bought on and the new owners are giving them the boot. Then word comes down that there will be a talent scout from a Saturday Night Life show in the audience. The best of the performers hogs the stage and gets the big gig, and the rest of the troupe are bitter, before the sappy Hollywood ending.
So who was right? The big star who essentially sold out or the loyal troupe who, let's face it, is going nowhere? Sometimes my improv group gets the idea of going beyond our quarterly senior citizens show, but then it kind of sputters out on the rocks of Who Is Going To Pay Real Money To See Us? I was sitting at the bar a few weeks ago and one of my fellow exhibitors, who had the current show, had this notebook and was making big plans to promote his art to rich people he knew. Lots of luck, I thought, and ordered another Daisy Cutter.
R Crumb of underground comix fame also plays in kind of a turn of the century band, The Cheap Suit Serenaders. He got to pontificating about it in this really great movie about him, and what he was talking about was that before Edison invented the record player if you wanted to hear music you had to pay a band. Since a lot of people wanted to hear music this meant a lot of work for a lot of bands and music reigned throughout the land.
But then when people could listen to record players they didn't need to pay any bands, and a lot of them had to find day jobs and stop playing. And also, because some bands got recorded and some didn't, some bands were considered great and some not so great, which was probably happening before recording but not so much.
Beagles used to be involved with the Bliss Music Festival, which I gather was kind of a nice little folksy group, but then the guys running it got big ideas to increase the audience and started letting in rock and roll bands which offended Beagles and he no longer is involved in the festival.
Old Dog is one of those tech guys. He has a 3d printer and other devices, invents various things, and posts them on the internet and gets responses, but has as yet, not hit in big in the tech world. Maybe if he got the ear of money guys or something he could hit it big, Maybe not.
I've simplified the roles of Beagles and Old Dog, for the convenience of my argument.
Which is something like are you the better person for just plying your art and following your own course, or should you try to promote because otherwise it will just die with you. Myself I am generally in favor of the latter, but I have my doubts about it.
So I'm looking for your opinions on this nebulous speculation.
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