The human race divides politically into those who want people to be controlled and those who have no such desire. The former are idealists acting from highest motives for the greatest good of the greatest number. The latter are surly curmudgeons, suspicious and lacking in altruism. But they are more comfortable neighbors than the other sort. -- Robert A. Heinlein
Kayak tour called due to approaching storm. Apparently it's not as entertaining (or moreso, depending on your perspective) trying to paddle in high waves and 20-knot winds.
The drive down the Seward Highway contains some of the most breathtaking scenery I've ever had occasion to witness. The mountains rise into the clouds on all sides, cradling the valleys and highway between them. It's difficult to be surrounded by all this and not want to be a part of it.
This much I understood before getting on the plane in Oklahoma. Alaska is beautiful, there is no doubt. Other places are too, in their own ways. Natural beauty is a wondrous thing, but honestly I couldn't say I could prefer one place over another merely on the basis of its terrain. Friends who've been to Alaska before me have told me of its beauty, and while they've been proven right, their descriptions were insufficient.
What my various friends completely failed to mention, and are perhaps completely -- I would say criminally -- blind to, are the other, far more important aspects of Alaska's character and culture. These make the difference between a mere vacation and something more akin to a religious pilgrimage.
Our ATV tour yesterday took us to the terminal moraine of the Knik Glacier. In the lower 48, this would already be cause for apoplexy. Add to that the fact that our guide made a point of telling us he was carrying a gun for the purpose of defending us in case we ran across a bear. I'm not sure which would have been more alarming in the lower 48... the fact that he had a GUN (!!!), or the fact that his stated purpose was to shoot one of "those beautiful, protected creatures" should the occasion arise.
And that's not all. In the hustle of folks unloading ATV's and dirtbikes for an afternoon of fun in the area, my eye passed over multiple kids, no older than 15 or 16, on machines of their own with a rifle or shotgun strapped across the handlebars and no one batting an eye. On top of that is the fact that I was toting my Glock (concealed, out of habit) with no permit required to do so. Even had I simply worn a plainly visible belt holster, the scene at the parking lot convinced me it would have been unremarkable.
Compare this to the issues the Open Carry movement is experiencing in the lower 48. People are given to panic the instant they see someone wearing a gun, however peacefully they may otherwise be acting. And children with guns? It's a full-blown catastrophe!
Now, having witnessed all this, and pondered the implications of the underlying cultural norms, I can't help it. Every time I take a breath here in Alaska, under the odors of trees and surf and fish and clean mountain air and yes, even the exhaust of ATV's, there is another fragrance that apparently only I can detect. It has long been my dream to sample it, and now that I have, I wonder how bad the addiction will become. It's the smell of freedom.
What I wanted was an inexpensive hotel in Anchorage. What we got was a flophouse in Strippertown. The room is listed as nonsmoking, but the odor disagrees. And it doesn't fill me with confidence, showing up to a hotel where the local constabulary is on-scene, investigating something, especially when Mr. Glock is in my lost bag. (note to self: cross "Red Roof Inn" off the list of chains providing/guaranteeing a certain minimum level of quality)
But it turns out the cop was present to help with some guy who got drunk, locked the deadbolt to his room, and fell asleep, forgetting his family was unable to enter the room once he'd dozed off. And my bag -- and gun -- showed up in the wee hours of the morning. And despite Alaska's rugged character, it's still civilized enough to provide me with my morning Dr. Pepper.
So, despite inauspicious beginnings, we are awake, safe, and ready to spend the day tearing through the countryside on our scheduled ATV tour.
Arrived in Alaska, my bag didn't. Mrs. Curmudgeon's did, which is a relief. She requires somewhat more debris than I do, to make it through the day. All I need is some clean underwear and socks. Enter iPhone. Google maps, search "walmart". A quick stop, and I'll be ready for our ATV tour in the morning.
Ever since you hired that Tyler Florence guy, the quality of the food has been going downhill. It tastes like something that's pretending to be hoity-toity, and fails miserably at it. The latest offense was the steak and portobello combination, with the "wine sauce". The mushrooms were so bitter I couldn't eat them. The steak was all right, but the sauce ruined it. And FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, will you people PLEASE discover a different vegetable besides broccoli? How difficult would it be to add some cauliflower and carrots, or sliced squash, or SOMETHING to your "seasonal vegetables" side dish?
I think I'm done eating at your restaurants until you find a new master chef and send some people to explore the produce aisle of your local supermarket.
We're at a restaurant for lunch, and the waitress informs me that there are no menus available with nutritional info on the various choices. Enter the handy-dandy iPhone and a nifty little site called The Daily Plate. Diet saved for another day!
After my last post, some expressed concern that I was "overdoing it". So I thought I'd discuss a little bit of how I approach lifting.
Common sense tells us that the maximum a person can lift is good for only one lift. To get two or more lifts in a row, without rest, requires that we reduce the weight. As it happens, weightlifters have a shorthand for this: xRM. Reading backwards, this is the Maximum weight a person can lift for x number of Repetitions. As x increases, the weight decreases. Thus, an 8RM is lower than a 5RM which is lower than a 3RM, and so forth.
Generally speaking, I've been focused on my 5RM and 3RM levels. This, according to the books, articles and websites I've been reading, is the optimal spot for building raw strength. The 8RM to 12RM range is where you get into building size and mass -- how you get the big muscles that look good on the beach.
It's widely considered kind of dangerous to go for a 1RM. At that level, your body is so maxed out that the slightest mistake leading to failure can be catastrophic. I, more than anyone I know, am paranoid about injury. I know that if I screw myself up bad enough (say, a torn rotator cuff or something that requires surgery), I'll probably never lift again. So I am highly motivated to stay "within my limits". Believe it or not, some would say I play it too cautious.
What this means in practice is that I'll almost never attempt a lift that I'm not convinced I can do right up front. And even if I think I can do more, I never go more than 10 pounds over the last personal best. So when I attempted my 315-pound deadlift, it was with the knowledge that the week before, I had done 305 pounds for 5 repetitions. Put simply, I KNEW I could get 3 out of 315. It wasn't a matter of "I hope I don't kill myself" so much as a matter of doing what I knew I could do. Also, after I set a new personal best, I generally back off and work up my 5RM to that level before attempting a new personal best.
At times, I get stuck. One lift or another gets to the point where I don't know if I can get more weight without help. So I find it. I've hired a trainer in the past, to check my form and give me tips. I've spent time with my uncle, who's lifted for a lot longer than I have. And I'm constantly watching videos on the internet about proper form and technique. I am as safe as I believe I can be, while still making progress. I'm about to hire a trainer for one of my lifts, because I'm stuck. I'll take what he teaches me and use it to get my lift to where I want it, and then I'll push on to the next milestone.
There are men in their 40's and 50's doing much more weight than I am at 37. It's my goal to be one of them when I'm their age. The only way to do that is to push. I have to do it reasonably and safely, but I still have to push. I hope those who worry will still celebrate with me when I hit the next goal and keep going.
Two years ago when this picture was taken, I was fat and weak and spent 2 months in agony because that jackhammer helped throw my back out.
According to the bathroom scale, I'm still a fat bastard. I believe its exact words were "get off me! For the love of God, get off me!"
But I've endeavored to do something about the weak part.
On the bodybuilding/weightlifting forums, when people talk about a number of "plates", they're generally using shorthand for "pairs of 45-pound olympic plates". That's using a 45-pound bar, so 1 "plate" is actually 1 pair, 45 x 2 = 90 pounds plus 45 for the bar makes it 135.
Today I joined the 3 plate club. 3 pairs of 45-pound plates, plus a bar, is 315 pounds. I've said previously that I ordinarily don't like discussing my numbers, but I'm just damn proud of this one.
And since the mantra of the internet is "video or it didn't happen"... I recorded the attempt.
Warning: video may be too intense for women and small children.
On second thought, Dad, don't you dare watch it without Mom.
Get your own personal copy of the movie, suitable for framing, here.
Because h.264 is a relatively new codec, and some might not be able to view it, here's an MPEG-4 version, cut down because it doesn't compress as well. If you can't see the video, you probably need to update QuickTime.
I'm also working on sorting out the whole YouTube thing, but it's not as simple as it first appears.
Dr. Stephen Hayne, the Mississippi medical examiner whose fraudulent autopsies and testimony have potentially put hundreds or thousands of innocent people behind bars or on death row, has been canned. It remains to be seen whether his license to practice is revoked (as it should be), or criminal charges pressed (as they should be).
Dr. Hayne's work was first dragged into the light of day by libertarian investigative reporter Radley Balko, in his Reason Magazine piece CSI: Mississippi. Reading this article and comparing it to almost any other story in the major media, it's easy to see why journalists have lost the respect of the public. They simply don't do the work any more. Radley Balko is a HERO. 99% of the journalists out there are vacuous morons filing fluff pieces about celebutantes and political candidates. Balko made a difference.
Ever since I first saw Balko's piece, I've been praying for the world to somehow make sense for once. Today my eyes welled up with tears of joy when I saw that my prayers had been answered. Thank God for men like Radley Balko, and ask Him to give us more. Who says libertarians can't have an impact?
To be sure, there is a lot of work left to do. We need investigations of the various DA's offices that continued to use Hayne even after his malpractice was brought to light. And we need continued vigilance in every other state where the word of the "CSI" types is considered beyond reproach, to the detriment of Justice. But this is an awesome victory for liberty. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
FOLLOWUP: Reason has a new post covering the press conference held by the Mississippi Department of Public Safety. The state is basically whitewashing Hayne's record, saying he's done a fine job and all that hooey:
So flanked by Mississippi Lieutenant Governor Phil Bryant and several state legislators and county coroners, [Mississippi Commissioner of Public Safety Steve] Simpson talked about the new arrangement, and how this was a great step forward for Mississippi's crime investigations. But he didn't even mention Hayne in his opening statement. Of course, Hayne immediately came up in the Q&A. And there Simpson went out of his way to say that even though Hayne would no longer be performing autopsies in the state, he "has not been terminated." Simpson went on to say that Hayne "was not let go because of any allegation of incompetence by anybody." He repeatedly praised Hayne's work over the years, feigned ignorance on Hayne's culpability in the DNA exonerations of Levon Brooks and Kennedy Brewer, and took a somewhat dismissive tone when someone mentioned the Innocence Project's demands for a comprehensive review of Hayne's work over the last 20 years. Simpson also explicitly said that the Department of Public Safety isn't currently investigating any cases involving Dr. Hayne.
Bastards.
Balko talks about how this was likely done to prevent a rush of appeals and lawsuits. Personally, I find it to be more evidence of the State's pernicious desire to be seen as immaculate and infallible. Admitting up front that Dr. Hayne is a quack is also admitting that the State didn't care so long as it was winning cases, Justice be damned. Individuals tend to be slow to admit fault. It's my experience that Government almost never does.
A Minneapolis family is outraged that members of the SWAT team that mistakenly raided their house and fired upon them last December have been awarded medals for their bravery under fire.
Vang Khang and his family had the fright of a lifetime when they believed their home was being invaded by burglars, or worse. It was actually a SWAT team, conducting a high-risk search warrant -- on the wrong house.
...
Because the house is located in a part of town known for gang violence, Khang said he feared an intrusion when his home was forcefully entered. With his legally owned hunting shotgun, he fired at what he thought were unknown invaders from behind the second-floor bedroom door where he, his wife, and four of their six children huddled for safety, according to Heffelfinger.
When police responded by firing 22 rounds, bullets landed within inches of the family's heads, Heffelfinger said.
On Monday, Police chief Tim Dolan awarded all eight SWAT team members medals for "bravery in action under fire," police spokesman Sgt. Jesse Garcia told ABCNews.com.
So let's get this straight:
1: You have a "gang informant", someone who's already losing contact with the truth.
2: You take his word for it that such-and-such a house is a den of thieves.
3: You do no further investigation -- you know, what they call "police work" -- to corroborate his story.
4: You go all jackboots on the family living there.
5: When it goes south on you, you give yourself a medal.
Government in action, folks. See rest of story here.
I have a few questions:
1: Are these the "highly trained police officers" I keep hearing about?
2: How much bigger would the medals have been, had they killed some of the Khang children?
3: Speaking of medals, isn't this kind of like giving out awards for "participation"? Apparently our police forces now have the same self-esteem issues as 10-year-old soccer players. Strangely, this doesn't fill me with confidence.
4: I find it astounding that there are still people out there with the attitude that government should be able to do "whatever it takes to keep us safe." Who's keeping us safe from government?
Well, as mentioned, we saw The Dark Knight. I want to make it clear from the outset that this is one of the two best movies I've seen all summer (the other being Iron Man). Unfortunately, weighing the entire experience of one against that of the other, I'm forced to say I liked Iron Man better.
The reason for this really isn't the fault of The Dark Knight, but of the Warner hype machine. In their desire to get people salivating over the movie's release, the folks at Warner have telegraphed every punch in the script. Folks have been raving about Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker, but it was completely deflated by the dozens of promos and trailers.
It's not just that the Joker's best lines are all present in just about every trailer (and they are). It's that the trailers' music and cutting made those lines present a certain expectation of dramatic impact which they did not have when seen in their respective scenes. For example, when the Joker growls "why so serious?" in the trailer, it's presented as menacing and maniacal -- a bit of his psychosis directed personally from him to a man he's about to kill. In the movie, he's telling a story. It's still menacing, and he's still going to kill the guy he's talking to, but the impact is lost because it's not as personally malevolent -- he's just telling a story and quoting a character. The quote had impact in the trailer, and I expected it to have such in the movie, but it was a set-up with no delivery.
Similarly, the audio push heard on the radio, where the Joker tells Batman "you're just a freak... like me!" and falls into cackling his trademark laugh, is actually a mash-up of at least two different scenes, and the line is delivered with less oomph behind it than you'd expect. On the radio, the Joker is almost gleeful. On screen, he's almost purring... conversational, even. It works very well in the scene, but it was robbed of its impact because we were led to expect something else.
These foibles go on and on. There's only one item that wasn't completely ruined, and that's because it was never mentioned in any of the trailers. It's over incredibly fast, and is so shocking that you wonder if you just saw what you think you saw. I won't ruin it, but when the Joker proposes to show someone a magic trick, pay attention. It's literally the best moment in the film, precisely because it was never mentioned in the trailers.
And that's what makes me wish Warner had taken a page from the makers of Cloverfield and just kept their mouths shut. Cloverfield had plenty of hype, but they didn't reveal anything. The audience wants to see the monster in Cloverfield, because that's how we experience it. But the Joker is all about dialog and worldview. His lines matter. So that's what Warner should have done: Let Ledger's fantastic performance speak for itself, rather than spending 8 months telling us how good it was going to be, and letting us watch/hear all the best parts.
Overall, it's probably an 8 out of 10. It's hard to say how much better it might have been without the poisonous hype machine, but my gut says "a lot".
After seeing The Dark Knight, we were curious to know whether the uncredited SWAT officer was in fact Nicky Katt. So, while sitting in the lobby of the chosen lunch venue, I hopped on IMDB and looked it up (it was). Turns out this thing is even handy for useless trivia.
Our house had a privacy fence in the back yard, once upon a time. We took down sections of it back when I put up the chain link fence, but I left some of the posts:
Today I was told by She-who-must-be-obeyed that those posts had to come out. It was either that or help her take down wallpaper in the guest room, which did not sound fun at all. So I opted for fence post duty.
Most people I've seen removing fence posts tend to do so with a backhoe or tractor with hydraulics. I searched everywhere in the garage, but couldn't seem to find one. And since I doubt they left the keys in the machines at the construction site down the street, I figured I'd have to come up with something else... a little redneck engineering.
I grabbed my log chain and a post I had previously removed, and attached them to the first post like so:
Then I brought out my heavy duty jack, the one I use when Richard the Deep Breather needs an oil change, and propped the short end of the post on it:
I started working the handle, and was surprised when this happened:
I figured it must just be a weak section of wood, so I moved the post and tried again.
Now I had three pieces of a formerly one-piece post. What the...
I grabbed a landscape timber I had laying around, and I don't really know why, but I tried jacking on the other side:
The little red ball was Zoe's contribution to the project, which she found annoying in that it was keeping me from the truly important task of the day, namely throwing said ball.
I tossed it a couple of times, then put her in the house, because it was getting to be really hot out there. Upon jacking from the new side, I discovered that this post was attached to or covered by a little slab of concrete, which the jack had previously been sitting on:
It weighed close to 200 pounds, but I managed to wrestle it out of the way. After that, the post came out relatively easily:
The other posts came out with much less hassle. One even slid out cleanly, leaving its concrete footing in the ground:
You'll notice I left one. That's because it sits next to the electric fence connection, and provides a shield from the lawnmower.
I decided to just lop it off with the ol' chainsaw, so at least it wouldn't stick out above the fence and call as much attention to itself.
After my workout this morning, pulling the posts, plus knocking the concrete off the posts and cleaning up the yard, I was pretty well beat. Next up... filling in the holes. That'll have to wait for another day.
I've previously blogged about how I like the Jackass shoulder rig by Galco. I finally decided to order one up from the Packin' Heat Leather Company, a discount dealer that gives about 30% off Galco's catalog prices. The discount comes with fairly primitive customer service, and their supply chain means you'll probably wait a week or two, but the holster does arrive eventually, and is un-screwed-around-with, so as long as you've got the patience it's a good place. Oh, and they only sell Galco and Bianchi products. Not sure why.
Anyway, the Jackass for the Glock 30 showed up this last week, and I finally got it all adjusted and whatnot. Here's the "out in public" shot:
...and here's what it's like minus cover garment, plus dawg:
I'm a fairly barrel-chested guy (thanks Gramps!), so my size tends to help with the hiding. The holster makes me a little lumpy, but as you can see I'm pretty lumpy on my own, so it's not really a big deal. The harness is really comfortable, and the weight is distributed well enough. I like having the extra option in my carryin' repertoire, so I can change things up based on the situation.
Mrs. Curmudgeon and I are big fans of Joss Whedon's work, especially Firefly/Serenity. She's prejudiced against Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason, but likes the spinoff series Angel. I showed her his latest effort, and she's absolutely enthralled by it, demanding that I put up a link for others to see. So here it is:
Be prepared: "luck" is where preparation meets opportunity.
-- Dr. Randy Pausch
That's what I've been trying to say to all the neosocialists who tell me that everything I have, everything I am, is just because I'm "luckier" than others.
A coworker sent me this video, and I absolutely love it, so I'm inflicting it on all of you.
Now excuse me while I go get some Fritos. It's too bad "Dr. Pepper" doesn't rhyme with "you". But I'm sure that's what he was thinking.
Mrs. Curmudgeon asked me why I made her listen to the song, and I said it was supposed to make her think of me. She said I'm not a "very simple man". She was quite emphatic on this point. So I asked her if another song might be better...
He's a complicated man
but no one understands
him but his woman
-- Theme from "Shaft"
I thought I'd start a new series of entries just mentioning the cool times and ways the ol' iPhone has come in handy. For bonus points, all such entries will be blogged from the iPhone itself. That will serve to keep them short and to the point.
Today, whilst lunching with my lady fair, she wondered where we might find a place called Locke Supply, for the purpose of fixing an outdoor faucet that I have previously "fixed", by which I mean "rendered useless" (it's a long story, and I'm not typing it on this thing). Anyway, out came the iPhone, and a Google search later, I had a map to nearest store, which as it happened was just a block away. The GPS function even provided a handy "here's how you get there from here."