Buy our clothes and help support anorexia

Designers at the Milan Fashion Week runway shows begged customers to buy their clothes in an effort to support anorexia — the Anorexia Automaton Army is about to take over the world with your help:

Meanwhile, mobile phones are eating us for lunch but keeping us from being bored at the same time.  Go figure!

It’s probably the same reason our antiquated telecom system means that as more and more Americans seek citizenship abroad, we had better start to speak Chinese if we’re going to understand what the majority of Internet citizens are gossiping to each other in their costly relief of boredom.

Like money for donuts

The hickory trees had a good year producing offspring…don’t know if it’s the best year (that is, if it’s the biggest crop (that is, most number of nuts, or largest nuts)) but some of the nut casings almost fill my palm, which doesn’t often happen.

The squirrels are having a hay day, as we say.

The raccoons seem pleased, too.

None of the chickadees or titmouses seem to care.  We don’t have any other bird species large enough or with strong-enough beaks to treat hickory nuts as a major food source.

The peace and quiet of a cool, sunny, autumn morning in north Alabama is priceless.

The trees and the birds and all the other flora/fauna around me have thrived in the climate change despite period droughts and warmer winters.

What about the ones who haven’t thrived?

We had a few years where the tree frogs around here deafened us with their summer mating calls.

Now, not so many.

Armadillos swept through a few years ago, unable to establish a permanent colony in the woods around my house.

Same for the fire ants.

The ecosystem of a deciduous forest…sigh, this is my home.

Why?  I guess because I was born in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, even though I spent a couple of my formative years in the inner flatlands of southern Florida.

Primarily, though, I have lived within a few-hours drive of the Appalachian mountain range, which few people know stretches from Georgia all the way up the East Coast into Maine.

On a day like today, this is all I have to say and observe.  I have no need to perpetuate the thoughts and ideas of others wanting my attention.

I am, after all, happy being myself, and that is a word to the wise, which is sufficient.

Have a great day, my little chickadees!

Sad News

A family left their native Germany because, if I remember correctly, the country of Germany would not let the Schmitts educate their kids at home the way they wanted (“home-schooled”), rather than through a nationalistic public education system.

Anyway, they came to the U.S. and opened a restaurant.

Sadly, they lost their son this week:

Dear Tennessee Valley Big Orange Crew,
Regrettably I must pass on some very heartbreaking news.  Most of you remember that we conducted our first 2012 TV viewing party at the Schnitzel Ranch when we [the University of Tennessee football team] played NC State two weeks back.

One of our UT TV party servers was the restaurant owner’s son Christian (Chris) Schmitt, he was 17 years old.  On Sunday (yesterday) at 3:30 PM approximately, Chris lost his life in a plane crash at the Moontown airfield. Chris was the student pilot riding with Mr. George Myers. I am sure most of you heard the news but here is the link:  http://whnt.com/2012/09/16/plane-crash-at-moontown-airport/.   The Schmitt family is devastated.  As most of you know they are here from Germany trying to start this restaurant on an investor’s VISA.   The restaurant is routinely closed on Mondays, but the family must now plan a funeral and run their business this week.  They could use some support from the people of the Tennessee Valley — some of the best people I have ever met and I proudly proclaim it.  If you want to help, please contact me at tnrustic@yahoo.com; page me at 256-512-6000, or call Gabi’s cell at 256-655-4085.

In dealing with this tragedy, the Schmitt family needs support in their domestic affairs (food preparation, love donations, or advice on how to proceed with Chris’s final preparations), they will soon need HELP at their business too.  Over the years, I have routinely asked for your support, but this call for TV_BOC help is my most important request ever.  I will gladly discuss the Schmitt family needs with anyone who wants to help. Please contact us if you want to get involved.

In Memory of Chris Schmitt,

Randy Hooser
TNrustic@yahoo.com
256-512-6000
256-655-4085 (Gabi’s cell)

PS  Finally to express any condolences for the Schmitt family and their loss, please post them to their Facebook account at https://www.facebook.com/schnitzelranch.  Be sure to tell them you are with the TV_BOC and we CARE.

When 102000+ people were gathered to recite the Lord’s Prayer

So, the world now has proof that the most violent religion is Islam, if global protest headlines speak louder than words, and cult followers don’t have a sense of humour/irony, willing to kill others and die because a few actors were conned into making fun of a religious leader and his god in a video?

Meanwhile, our covert operatives, assigned to no country, used the noise and chaos to slip into place, as always, ready to assassinate at the first word from the Committee, keeping this 3D chess game moving forward into new areas of the protestors’ territory.  If a protestor or a person who incited a protestor dies off-camera in a horrible traffic smashup or accidental fall/food poisoning at home, who’s going to pay attention?

Yes, you’re right again, of course.  “Assassinate” is such a strong word.  Should I have said remove the chess pieces from the playing board, instead?

However, when using the globe as our playing field, we do what we must to accomplish a goal greater than a species or nation ever outlives, changing the anthropomorphic state of sets of states of energy as the need arises.

Unfortunately, the Obama administration will forever be tied to the use of cowardly strategic murderous drone strikes, instead of putting himself and his drone option last, when he should say our military personnel, both those directly employed by our government and those indirectly employed as contractors/mercenaries, are, in person, used to carry out secret death sentences or actively engage in the legal right to proactively defend themselves during war.

In place of a HOPE poster, there will inevitably be found on the side streets of the Internet a picture of Obama looking like BIG BROTHER in “1984” with his finger pointed at you, saying, “Remote-controlled killing is love.  A dead citizen is a happy citizen.  Coercion is freedom.”  All in the name of feeding this storyline, which appears to question the old storyline that stated the latest enemy is Islam, but only in the strictest radical sense, whatever that means in selling headlines more succinctly, a tradition of every country that divides killing into bins: socially-unacceptable murder or organisationally-acceptable restructuring.

Then, on an opposite street will be Romney, smiling, saying, “I do not kill unarmed Muslims without open due process.  I love all people, regardless of religious affiliation, bad comic timing or alleged criminal guilt.  Only my God can judge you, whose teachings I follow to the letter of the writings I read most often with more conviction than my opponent.”

Would it make more sense if public trials were held for defendants in absentia, who are given time to appear, even via the Internet, to face their accusers before being convicted of murder and sentenced to death by any means necessary, as long as it was not cruel and inhumane, including instant death by drone strike?

Are drones becoming too politically risky, creating the wrong kind of unintended consequences, scaring people and reinforcing rather than changing their subcultural beliefs?

This weekend, I stood in the midst of a group of 102000+ people gathered to celebrate their right to peaceably assemble and watch the three-ring circus we call a modern college football game, none of us expecting to be hit by a drone strike but willing to be filmed with no monetary compensation by dirigible-, crane-, guidewire-, hand- and helicopter-mounted cameras.

At the beginning of the game, on a public/state-sponsored university campus, a man spoke over the public address system to say a prayer before the players started tossing themselves at each other.  This week, the speaker happened to lead us in a rendition of Christian text called the Lord’s Prayer.

We also watched the uniform number of Johnny Majors, a college classmate of my parents, retired from active use by the university football team, which brought a tear to my eye knowing one of my parents could not be there in person to join the festivities.

During the break between the two halves of the game, called the halftime show, for some strange reason, the university “Pride of the Southland” marching band included a Scottish pipes and drum ensemble which played both “Scotland the Brave” and “Amazing Grace,” as well as the inevitable “Rocky Top.”

And today, as we left Knoxville, we saw dozens of old muscle/classic cars/trucks leaving east Tennessee, as well as a few stragglers from a large motorcycle gathering heading north from a Trail of Tears ride.

Can I extract trends from these last few data points, wondering where, anywhere and everywhere on this planet, people were reinforcing their beliefs due to recent news headlines?

Me, I’m happy to see people do what they want, as long as they don’t physically harm others.

Then again, I enjoyed the football game, even if my alltime favourite college football team, the University of Tennessee Volunteers, was unable to post the higher score by the time the game ended, when many a player could easily show evidence of physical harm.

So, I’ve got a basic belief of mine to reconsider: freedom to be in the act of “first, do no [physical] harm.”

If nothing else in my beliefs this weekend, there is a sense of poetic justice, where, on the same weekend my team lost its game against a formidable opponent, a team now coached by a man who claimed to love the Vols but left us high-and-dry — Lane Kiffin — also lost.  I can’t remember and maybe you can help me…which players with questionable ethics attended the same school?  Was it O.J. Simpson and Reggie Bush?

I know our new coach, Derek Dooley, instills a real winning attitude of moral and ethical beliefs in his players as they reach successful goals in their career paths, in and out of the physically-harmful sport of American football.

While straying into sports, I keep having fun with this comical tirade on behalf of a political election campaign, seriously yet cynically satirical (or is that cynically yet satirically serious?), when I need to go on down the trail this storyline was going to take after the last blog entry but I’ve let myself get caught up in eddies and swirls of news headlines again, haven’t I, either way?

Old age, I guess.

Well, I’ve got to help my wife clear space in our space (“our space” is a house, in this case) to make room before we move her mother’s furniture from her sister in-law’s house, the furniture having worn out its welcome, as all guests are prone to do, including family.

Tomorrow, I’ll thank folks for their help this weekend, including Cassie at Bel Air Grill and Silvia at the Airport Hilton, my cousin Cindy and her husband Ron, and more…

Thank goodness I do not live in the ultra-regulated city-state of Singapore, because it considers illegal the flash mob performance of a haka that was as fun to watch as a spontaneous Scottish Highlands bagpipe concert.

Closing off subplots

Palatia rode the bus to work that morning.

She walked up to the back door and rang the bell.

A security guard answered.  “Palatia G. Spaut?”

“Yes?”

“Follow me.”

Palatia walked with the guard to the manager’s office.

“Palatia!  You made it in this morning, I see.  Feeling better already?”

Palatia nodded at Veruog, her shift manager.  “Yes.  Thanks for asking.”

Veruog waved off the security guard and pointed at the chair next to the manager’s desk, with about all the room left on the office floor taken up by a tiny desk.

Palatia sat on the edge of the seat and looked up at Veruog.

“Palatia, first of all, I want to say you have been a good employee.  Don’t say we haven’t noticed that you can handle the cash register and the food line with little supervision.”

“Thank you.”

“But…but yesterday, you called in sick.”

“Yes, I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Ohh…you know, aches and pains.”

“I see.  And you spent the day at home in bed?”

“Pretty much…”

“Pretty much?  What if I was to say that we have video evidence that you not only left your flat but you also went to a local park with friends, not returning until later in the afternoon, perfectly healthy-looking the whole day?”

“How can you say that?”

“Funny you should ask.  You see, we consider you a valuable employee since you haven’t quit in the first six months of working long hours and low pay at a fast food joint.  Therefore, we registered you with a security service that has links to many traffic cams, security systems and other monitoring devices so we can make sure you are out of danger.”

“Out of danger?  You mean you’ve been spying on me?”

“Oh no.  Let’s just say our company has health insurance policies on our best employees and to make sure our policies are well protected, we ensure that your habits outside of work are within the actuarial predictions of your overall value.”

“Huh?  You pay someone to follow me?”

“No.  We…or, rather, the security service uses the latest in face and body motion recognition to monitor your whereabouts and warn us if you are in imminent danger.  From what we received yesterday, it appears you hiked near the edge of a canyon where several hikers died earlier this year and where some campers died of a hantavirus infection last week.”

“What?  Are you kidding me?  You mean you know, or think you know, where I was yesterday?”

“Yes.  After we received the message from the security service, we attempted to contact you at home but got no answer.  We then sent a security guard to your flat and, again, no answer.  We contacted the building supervisor who was worried that one of his tenants had died on his watch, so to speak, raising his insurance premiums.  He gladly opened your flat to reveal you weren’t home, which, we believe, verifies that the person we have in this recording right here…” Veruog pointed at the flat screen mounted on the wall above the desk.  “…indicates, through deductive reasoning, was you.”

“But I…”

“Do you deny that you went hiking yesterday?”

“No.”

“And do you deny this scene we’re watching from satellite imagery which indicates your hiking path reached up to and over the safety barrier of the canyon edge?”

“No, but…”

“Then we have only one conclusion to make here, Palatia.  You have voided the contract you signed when you agreed to work for us…”

“But…”

“…and further, based on the fine print here just above your signature, you are hereby terminated for endangering the efficiency of our company by exposing yourself to nonwork conditions that not only make us liable for training a replacement employee but also liable for health insurance coverage we had not calculated in the actuarial tables generated by your user data, including your social media profiles and the application you submitted to us.  The only exception to this contract would have been if you died and, in that case, we would have collected a tidy sum.  However, since you are still alive…”

“You can’t fire me!  I quit!”

“Ahh, see, that’s where we differ on this issue.  We have already posted the change in your employment status to our social media site which we hope you will be kind enough to reflect by changing your employment status on the various social media sites you frequently use that we agreed to document when you signed the contract.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Again, Palatia, it’s a matter of perspective.  We both have our reputations to manage, including, these days, our online presence.  We have held up our part of the bargain, providing you not only a safe and secure work environment, but also compatible employees, a steady paycheck and a guarantee that you are a stable, if somewhat independent type personality.  Any questions?”

“Yes?  What about my last paycheck?”

“We will issue you your last paycheck as soon as you return the uniforms we provided you.  According to the spreadsheet, you have three uniforms issued in your name.”

“Yeah?  Well, fuck you!”

Veruog pressed a button on the edge of the desk and the security guard immediately stepped into the doorway.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“We have a set of clothes in Palatia’s size.  Here’s the ticket.  Get one of the guys off the line to open the supply cabinet and return with the clothes.  Palatia, I’m sorry, you have given me no choice but to demand that you return the uniform that you are wearing right now.”

Palatia got up to run and noticed that all the order screens in the fast food restaurant changed to an image of her jumping up from the chair in Veruog’s office.

“As you can see, Palatia, it’s up to you whether you want to turn this into a criminal act for the police to investigate.  The security guard has already requested a patrol car to swing by our restaurant as soon as possible.”

Palatia, caught between wanting to maintain a viable employment record and wanting to tell this whole system off, stopped in the doorway.

She wondered if her friends, all of whom depended on shaky job histories, would take her in if she bolted.

Surely, there was more out there than background checks and slave labour jobs like hers.

Palatia quickly stripped off her clothes and ran out the back door.  If Princess Kate and
Prince Harry can make millions with their clothes off, she…well, there was also that stripper named Katrina Darling…she could make herself famous as the first employee who was fired and ran naked from the premises.  How much was 15 seconds of fame worth in this YouTube era of celebrity scandals and embassy burnings?

News headlines the next minute reported a naked bandit who was shot and killed by brave police officers called to the scene of a crime in progress, said an iNews reporter who had pulled up into the carpark and was shooting video of the restaurant sign when a woman, running as fast as she could, flipped a bird at the police, ran straight toward them and screamed something unintelligible.  “The next moment, a manager walked out with a security guard, both of them looking panicked, saying that the dead assailant, named Palatia, had stolen two uniforms from the restaurant and threatened harm to the reputation of the establishment’s owners.  The police clearly had no choice but to protect themselves from this crazed individual!  Here’s my video and I thank you for watching.  You can see my other videos at…”  The instant news stations switched to the next forgettable crime in progress, posting a link to the video at the bottom of the screen.

= = =

While investigating what makes some people vote for one U.S. presidential candidate over another, I came across the book, “What’s the Matter with White People: Why We Long for a Golden Age That Never Was,” by Joan Walsh, referred to me by the website, salon.com, which has provided many a relaxing and entertaining moment of reading in the past.

However, after reading the following 2-star review of the book on amazon.com by Tom Peterson, I’ll have to encourage myself in the future to be open-minded about book suggestions (and, most importantly, subsequent reviews) by websites I review habitually, before I automatically jump to their linked commercial content:

The basic theme of this book is, why do some Whites refuse to fully cooperate with the destruction of their own people and culture? Why won’t they more eagerly promote the genocide of their own children and grandchildren. The policies the author promotes are Anti-White. Open borders, mass immigration, huge transfers of wealth and opportunities from Whites to non-Whites, all of it to the detriment of Whites. Lest someone think genocide is too harsh a term, note that what China is doing to Tibet is rightly called genocide, even though it is largely “non-violent”. Most of the time, genocide does not involve outright killing.

In 1965 the US was roughly 90% White. Today, a minority of children born are White. This is the most rapid demographic change in the history of North America – far more rapid than what followed the arrival of Whites to this continent in 1492. Four hundred years after that date, Amerindians and Whites were still fighting! We now witness a crushing dispossession of Whites in just a few generations. Apparently some Whites are not quite as enthusiastic about the genocide of their people as the elites would like, and this disturbs the author.

The shocking fact is that in 50 years, there will be NO majority White countries anywhere on earth. Yet every Asian country will remain Asian. And every African nation will remain African. It is White countries and only White countries that are being flooded with non-Whites and it is every single White country without exception. None of that is of concern to the author.

Imagine if Africa was undergoing forced assimilation and mass immigration of non-blacks to the point that every single African country would be non-black in a 40 or 50 years. It would rightly be called genocide. Yet this is exactly what is happening to every single White country. This is the central fact of our age, and the one the author willingly ignores in this book

Can I guess who a person like this would vote for in the upcoming U.S. presidential election?  You get three guesses and the first two don’t count!

When your diet calls for a fried yeast donut covered in sugar…

From my wife via email:

Krispy Kreme: Get a free doughtnut or free dozen doughnuts Sept. 19 ‘Talk Like a Pirate Date’

Get a free doughnut if you talk like a pirate at a location.

Get a free dozen donuts if you dress in full pirate attire.

Go here to see the promo.

No purchase required.

How to talk like a pirate:

Ahoy Matey!

Blow me down!

Heave ho

Landlubber

Sea Dog

Thar she blows

Yo Ho Ho

Offer valid Sept. 19 only at participating locations.  Go here to find one in your area and give them a call.

A student of history stirring the melting pot

After observing the past, present and future, I have decided, in case it’s my last chance to vote for a white, heterosexual, male, Anglo-Saxon Protestant candidate for U.S. President, to cast my ballot in November for Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan.

I don’t agree with all of their politics but, as a student of history, I see that there’s still a place in international business for the voices of white males having Northern European ancestry who made positive contributions to the idea of a democratic republic with capitalistic tendencies (i.e., the United States) and demand more of the working class than a fallback position on publicly-funded social support programs in tough times.

It is also my way of honouring my parents, whom my mother reminded me this weekend have been Republican supporters since the days of Dwight Eisenhower.

The best way to reform a group is from within, less so from the position of the fringe groups or political parties I’ve supported in the past.

A corporation is not a citizen but a citizen doesn’t always know what’s right for competitive business practices, either.

There is a thin line between predation and competition to define more clearly.

As the world absorbs and reflects the principles espoused by dead white male European philosophers regarding capitalism and communism, I will support positions of whomever is popularly elected as long as those leaders understand the basic premise that a set of states of energy which has found a way to build stronger bonds with states of energy around it will also stumble upon a method to recreate a version of itself which competes against other sets for building stronger bonds, regardless of one’s preferred set of anthropomorphic origin stories.

My slogan: “Business. Science. Competition.”

I am competing against a version of me 1000 years from now that doesn’t care about characterisations or labels like white, heterosexual, male, Anglo-Saxon Protestant candidate for U.S. President.

By voting for Romney, I realise I support the concern that establishing a stable population dependent on government support is anathema to the future where I need cooperative competition in the marketplace for resources to get our species off its collective hindends and heading out into the cosmos.

I cringe to think about a version of myself sitting at home, unemployed, receiving government funds, unconcerned about efficient distribution/competition, and serving as an anchor holding down progress while buying the cheapest, if not the highest-qualty goods available, because of limited income, lack of employable skills/education and/or no motivation.

Our species on this planet has a window of opportunity for active exploration and settlement of other celestial spheres but do we really need a social safety net to maintain and expand that window opening?

What is a social safety net?  Governmental organisations like NASA?  Department of Defense? Social Security? Medicare? Medicaid? Department of Education? Department of Health and Human Services? Department of Transportation? A government with three separate branches of power — judicial, legislative and executive? How about a bare-minimum government that provides “no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances”?

By voting for Romney, I’ll give the Romney/Ryan Republican Party ticket one more chance to get the balance between the private and government sectors right, preventing U.S. business from creating its own downfall, and protecting it from international versions of financial nuclear bombs without drowning U.S.-based businesses in noncompetitive laws, rules and regulations.  If Obama is reelected, I expect the same from his administration working in cooperation with other government public business entities around the globe.

Then, I’ll return to voting for the Nader-type candidates for U.S. President, to keep both major U.S political parties semi/quasi honest (or at least hope to get them to incorporate nonpopulist planks), as impossible as it sounds, because I know that corporations and other nongovernmental organisations for whom we work, or which we hopefully create ourselves, are fueling the engine of our economy now as much as ever, so voting for a national political party to represent my corporal self, no matter the candidate’s racial heritage, is participating in nostalgic belief in the good ol’ days when “we’re the government and we’re here to help” had positive rather than negative connotations, whatever we choose to believe the good ol’ days to have been.

A strong national military defense is certainly a deterrent globally but I’ll take a little more, stronger, defense of my financial nest egg these days, now that I’m closer to retirement age than I am to my first year of earning a decent wage.

All while wishing that our species has better longterm goals than mine — putting Earth-based lifeforms on spacecraft while we still have a locally-stable sector of the galaxy to travel, populate and set up tourist traps.

At the end of the day, do I care about any of what I’m writing here in this blog entry if I am childless, spend most of my day with two aging cats, have no legacy to protect and only philosophical issues to turn into short stories via a habit of blogging daily to entertain myself while staving off the boredom of a 50-year old man who has seen enough of life to know there are fewer surprises to expect and less he wants to put up with?

What motivations do I have left if the only thing to excite me today is the thought of turning on or turning off readers by saying the flavour of ice cream I eat every four years makes more of a superficial difference than a deeply meaningful one to a person who’s tasted all the flavours and concluded they’re pretty much the same, separated by varying patterns on the ice cream cone to break the monotony?

Does it matter if in my thoughts I have a singular vision of what Earth-based lifeforms will look like in 1000 years that makes all of our concerns today seem miniscule by comparison?

Oh well, enough talking to myself here today.  Time to roll the rubbish bin back to the house, eat lunch and take a nap.

Quite frankly, on days like today, at 50+ years of age on a beautiful, sunny, warm Monday in a quiet suburban neighbourhood, it is difficult to motivate myself to care about anything more than finding a comfortable place in the house to plop down my body and escape into a dream world uninterrupted by feline companions, one day closer to the end of the set of states of energy known as me, the world of my youth practically gone (or on reruns in TVLand rebroadcast on media streaming devices) and thus me as an adult expansion of my youth-built core almost gone with it, leaving those who care about living to divide up Earth’s resources amongst themselves.

Today, I disappear into the dot at the end of a sentence and that is sufficient to say I was once here as thoughts recreated in electronic bits represented as words in a blog entry formed by pressing fingers on a wireless keyboard communicating with a desktop computer attached to an ADSL line talking to a DSLAM connected to the Internet (which itself is a network of routers, servers, and switches, wires/fibers passing/storing energy states we label 0 or 1, also known as bits – the circles, cycles and spirals never stop, do they?).

Zzzzzz…time to talk to myself in my sleep.

Vagrant birds and fast food relationships

Are your local libraries plagued by vagrant, troublemaking, homeless birds panhandling for food?:

Have you become such a fan of fast food joints that you look for a partner who will make your last name almost famous [read: Kimberly Burgner-King]?:

They had planned to hold their wedding reception at McDonald’s but, thanks to the kind folks at Burger King, everyone is invited for three hours of all-you-can-eat burgners and frnies on 11th Oct. 2012 at a Burger King of Kimberly’s choosing, served by Elvnis Preslney, of course.

Two data points

Would you believe that Vladimir Putin is a big fan of the actor, Jeff Daniels?

Yes, it is true.  Putin admits privately that his latest stunt, flying with cranes, was inspired by a film starring Jeff Daniels, Fly Away Home.

Men quit jobs due to Internet addiction but deny they’re asexual, claim it’s just a cat infection problem — news at 12, 1, 4, 5, 5:30, 6, 6:30, 8, 9, 9:30, 10, 10:30, 11, 11:30, 12…as soon as Tom Brokaw wakes up from his sleeping pill addiction, that is.

Drum roll, please!

Wake us up after the ECB finishes its latest fruitless fishing expedition — you won’t find many appetising meals in the EU economy.