More interesting info on the murder of Michael Hastings

For all you Obombya bashers, small government types and military worshippers out there; this case is important in guiding us toward the decision on who we defend and who we defend ourselves against. Do some research on Michael Hastings. Follow hunches. Question assumptions. Buy an old reliable car and sell your guided missile.

http://whowhatwhy.org/2015/02/20/car-hacking-report-refuels-concerns-michael-hastings-crash/

As usual, read the comments section. It is important, as is the source, in all the news we read.

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Tales From the City

It always irks me when I hear these politicians wanting to grow Iowa when it seems about right to me. That growth comes on the backs of the people already here. Oh yea, we’ve got some potholes that need fixing, but politicians improving things does not bode well for the people of the state. What we need more of is politicians having family outings, maybe with a photo op to prove they aren’t doing anything. Every negative aspect of city life has its roots in Politicians “doing something.” I always look at the National Parks as a destination to keep tourists away from the truly beautiful and peaceful parts of the country. Cities do the same thing. The greenies push for crowded population centers so they can take their professorial stipend and visit unspoilt paradise while the ghettos fester because of overcrowded conditions. No, George Will didn’t write this.
Thanks a lot for reading. I’m looking forward to any disputes or comments adding to my efforts.
Fritz

Federal dietary guidelines will now be influenced by the effect of food production on the environment. Just the fact that there is such a thing as federal dietary guidelines should make everyone laugh so hard that the national obesity crisis would be solved because with all the laughter no one would have time to eat. But alas, we pay these fools to study these things without a second thought. My befuddlement with the acceptance of politicians managing our lives leads me to throw up my hands and write history this time.

My story about my summer in Alaska was well received so I thought this urban adventure might be of interest. I hope Iowa politicians take note as they dream up schemes to attract more people to a state that I live in because it was rural.

I walked over to Bob Gardiner’s for a visit one sunny morning. I had known Bob from Newport Harbor High but he was just an acquaintance. We became best friends when we found we were both at California College of Arts and Crafts. Bob lived a block from Oakland Tech, where Huey Newton graduated in 1959 without the ability to read. Newton went on to get a PhD and founded the Black Panther Party (to give an idea of the neighborhood). Bob later became famous himself, earning an Oscar in 1974 for a short film, “Closed Mondays” (available on YouTube). He also wrote for the Smothers Brothers and sculpted the California Raisins claymation commercial.

Marcel, a retired maritime cook who lived in Bob’s apartment building, was serving a cold lunch in the vacant lot adjoining the building. Marcel was crippled and had a heck of a time navigating the steel stairway on the end of the building. We helped him carry the steak tartar, vichyssoise, and gazpacho down to the lot full of broken concrete and glass. We sat on milk crates around an old wire spool. Marcel had traveled all over the world on merchant freighters and knew his stuff. We were living like kings. If Marcel were alive today he would be waiting for the union to let him go back to work.

But this isn’t the day I was talking about. Bob had friends coming down from Eugene the next day and we planned on going over to San Francisco for Chinese together.

We were all quite impoverished so we pooled our money to make sure we had enough and off we went, the five of us across the Bay Bridge, one of Bob’s friends holding all our money. We found a place to park a ways from China Town and the guys all caught a cable car that I somehow missed. That was the last I saw of all the cash I had to spend. I walked to North Beach and China Town, hoping to find my pals to no avail. But I ran into Tom Moy, who I had known in Newport Beach. How could I not find Bob and the guys but meet Tom and his girl friend four hundred miles from where we last met? They bought me a hot fudge sundae.

By then it was getting pretty late and I lined up with about a hundred other hitchhikers on Broadway headed to the East Bay. It didn’t take too long until I piled into an old Chevy with about five others headed for Berkeley. On the Bay Bridge the fellow in the front passenger seat started talking about the danger of going so fast, obviously out of his head on dope. The driver had the presence of mind to motion to us to lock the doors but that goofball opened the door and was halfway out, going fifty miles per hour, before we grabbed him and pulled him back in and hung on. He became even more agitated as we drove north to Berkeley and the driver pulled over to the side of the freeway just in time for our patient to jump out and run down the side of the freeway, never to be seen again.

Well, at least I was on the right side of the bay. I had about five miles south to get home. It was late at night and I stuck out my thumb as I walked, if a car was coming by. A Buick Electra about thirty feet long stopped and I hopped in. There were three black kids in there about my age. I imagine they thought I was like all the long haired white kids on TV so they asked if I had any dope, then if I had any money. I told them I had $56 but it was for my rent, due the next day. The guy in the back seat pulled out this huge pistol and waved it around telling me he was going to shoot me and throw me out the door.

I gave a nice speech about how I was exploited by the rich corporations just like they were and it was all the money I had in the world. I talked like a good Democrat so they considered me part of the brotherhood of victims. They drove out of their way to take me right to my door. We shared high fives and right on brothers and I stumbled into my room at three AM. I found the landlady’s cat had been locked in and made a nice puddle on my bed so I threw the covers outside and curled up on the floor and went to sleep. No wonder I stayed in Iowa.

So, keep it up politicians. Dole out tax breaks and incentives to Google and Microsoft. We’ll all learn from example that income comes from a good line, not hard work. Would you really pay someone to formulate diets based on cow flatulence?

Lesley Gore

Another reason why I feel I own myself, why I am a libertarian. Lesley Gore wrote music and performed during my formative years. You could say It’s My Party had the same message. I can hardly believe she is dead at only 68 of lung cancer as of February 16, only 4 years older than me. I like the way she belts this out:

Three teenage girls fly from London to Turkey to become “jihadist brides”

Wow, what a surprise. The girls were described as “straight A students.” This one fact explains their so-called puzzling behavior.

What is a straight A student? Such a student is intelligent, of course, but plenty of intelligent students don’t get straight A’s. Straight A students are mostly defined by servitude and submission to authority. What better organisation than ISIS to provide focus for a straight A student? I would imagine schools in London have abandoned principles of discipline the same way as schools here in order to make everyone feel good about themselves. Enforcement of principles and rules is routinely dropped in a vain attempt to earn respect from students. These girls, who were at a stage of their lives where direction for the future was an inherent goal, couldn’t find it in a school where political correctness ruled over strict principles of self respect and productivity. ISIS furnished the authority figure the wimpy school administration lacked.

This story has broader meaning than just Islamic jihadists versus western culture. Students everywhere are attracted to movements such as the greens, neo-nazis and military to furnish meaning to an otherwise directionless life. A society where private property and personal responsibility are emphasized instead of an amorphous “common good” would provide selfishness (human nature driven) as a basis for positive direction in our youth.

Here is the story of the girls and their baffled PM:
http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-31564014

Letter to our Statehouse representative, Linda Upmeyer

Linda,

As you might have read from me before, a fuel tax is the best way to fund roads. But the DOT has proven itself to be too wasteful to manage their job.

There’s probably a pretty fine line between meddling politicians and strict oversight on behalf of taxpayers interests. If DOT officials don’t squeal a little bit, that shows our representatives need to step it up. Everybody seems to be more interested in building a legacy than leaving us some spending money after infrastructure is provided.

I’m sure those ridiculous rest areas are not that much compared to miles and miles of roads. But who says the state should provide a potty stop? I’m old enough to remember gas stations and how we picked the cleanest one for such a thing and bought stuff there. I realize we are past that now with no turning back (Like most other government programs. I even think education should be parents’ responsibility and the root of all education failure is in the fact it is mandated and funded by government. I don’t sound very optimistic, huh?).

I’m not in your shoes but what I’d do regarding the fuel tax is insist diesel be taxed at the same rate (even adjust it to compensate for overtaxation on the federal level). and base my vote on a requirement for a public event where the officials responsible for the extravagant rest areas are fired with no severance pay.

Thanks for trying, Fritz

Update:

Republican leadership ousted two members of the Ways and means committee in order to get the bill to a vote. Such is politics in Iowa. No shift in spending oversight proposed as far as I know. We can’t grow bananas here but that doesn’t mean we can’t emulate a banana republic. Des Moines is full of crooks like any other capital city.

Public radio called the tax regressive, as in opposite of progressive. Democrats mostly opposed the bill. Here is some weird bipartisanship, Tea party democrats. What rich person cares about a $60 increase in annual fuel costs? But it’s gonna cut into the pop and chips budget for the less well off.

Weaning Day


This is a Pink Fairy Armadillo. Did it attract your attention to this post?

Last year Darla Krukow said we should wean calves when the moon is bright. But I looked it up in the Farmers Almanac. She was wrong and we weaned on the right day. The calves hardly bawled at all. The cows went about their business, occasionally visiting the fenceline to see their babies and reassure them they will live just fine without milk.

A couple days later we came home from town at about ten at night and saw headlights in the yard. The neighbors had been rounding up our calves for the last two hours and getting them back in the yard. They were back with their moms so we had to rewean. Shoot. Willy thought they might have been spooked by a coon fight (really a great sound if you want to curdle some blood). They were so terrified they bent a Sioux gate and went right over a pretty good fence.

They bawled for almost a week after being weaned a second time outside the Almanac’s guidelines.

Today should have been a perfect day for it. We penned all the cows and calves and let any cow out that wanted out. Calves are usually more cautious so this is a good way to do it. One calf got through but, miraculously, it was easy to get back in with his comrades.

It was getting late in the day and Dawnie was a big help in fetching tractors and shedding them when I had another tractor to move or bed the bulls. We use a pitchfork to peel layers off a big round bale of course hay and carry it into the shed to the bulls’ bed. We can leave the gate open and they don’t bother trying to get out… until today. Oh man, did that guy have fun romping and snorting, pawing the ground and calling out like Tarzan on meth. Pretty scary really. No horns but big and powerful. He charged the half of the big bale and unrolled it for about 100 feet. It was a pretty tight bale and hard to peel off the layers; not any more.

We hope the coons stay quiet.

Letter to War Street Journal about GMO apple article

Dear Editor,

Does our government actually have the legal authority to approve and label food? (Gene-Altered Apple Approved, Feb 14-15 Journal)

If Lisa Archer, director of Friends of the Earth, actually believes, “Farmers don’t want to grow it, food companies don’t want to sell it and consumers don’t want to buy it,” one has to wonder what we are discussing when there is no reason for GMOs to exist.

Dealers in non-GMOS can label their products as such and capture a premium with no expense to taxpayers. Producers and consumers know best. The Agriculture Department is just along for the ride at our expense.

The more important issue is the assumption of the overly broad powers of government. Details always seem to obscure that issue to the detriment of us all.

Love, Fritz