So, I put in for a transfer to MCF – Lino Lakes and it was accepted. I will be working as a release planner. Currently, I am living in Duluth and will be driving for a bit from there until I can find a suitable place for Tina and me to rent. It appears to be about a 2-hour drive. Not exactly the ideal situation while I am also doing two online classes. But, like I said, I am looking for a place that is small enough so as not to be overwhelming to clean, allows pets, and is centrally located so Tina can find a job that is within a 20-minute drive.
General
For use when I really don’t have time to figure out to what category the post should belong.
The New York Times Gained A Set!
Okay, all the years of the Bush II Administration and never was a lie called out as a lie. Even the vaulted New York Times failed to call a lie a lie.
(New York Times) WASHINGTON — President Trump used his first full day in office on Saturday to unleash a remarkably bitter attack on the news media, falsely accusing journalists of both inventing a rift between him and intelligence agencies and deliberately understating the size of his inauguration crowd.
In a visit to the Central Intelligence Agency intended to showcase his support for the intelligence community, Mr. Trump ignored his own repeated public statements criticizing the intelligence community, a group he compared to Nazis just over a week ago.
See those words there? The ones I highlighted? Yeah, that’s calling out lies.
Good on ya, New York Times!
Update: “Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed. Everything else is public relations.” – George Orwell
The Farmer and The Viper
The story concerns a farmer who finds a viper freezing in the snow. Taking pity on it, he picks it up and places it within his coat. The viper, revived by the warmth, bites his rescuer, who dies realizing that it is his own fault. The story is recorded in both Greek and Latin sources. In the former, the farmer dies reproaching himself “for pitying a scoundrel,” while in the version by Phaedrus the snake says that he bit his benefactor “to teach the lesson not to expect a reward from the wicked.” The latter sentiment is made the moral in Medieval versions of the fable. Odo of Cheriton‘s snake answers the farmer’s demand for an explanation with a counter-question, “Did you not know that there is enmity and natural antipathy between your kind and mine? Did you not know that a serpent in the bosom, a mouse in a bag and fire in a barn give their hosts an ill reward?”
Because it seems lessons for the populous are usually not learned by the populous.
Spring Semester
I’ve started Spring Semester. Two online classes. One for Psychology, the other through the Pharmacy School. Both are writing intensive. I really didn’t have a choice as I was late getting around to registering. So, basically the first three classes of my resuming my education are writing intensive. I’m a glutton for punishment.
What My Parents Taught Me
It’s simple, really. If your team fails to make the playoffs you always support the teams in your division, and then in your conference. So, with that said (and with a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth) Go Packers!
Science Fact
It’s no longer science fiction. We now live in a time where a rocket can blast off, separate, and than land! And not only land, but land right on the x of a pad on a drone ship in the middle of the Pacific. I am soooooo geeking out right now.
This is the live feed. But I’m sure you can find the launch. Oh, and for the record, the first stage took off and landed all under 10 minutes.
Two Things
One, seems there’s some kind of brute attack going on against WordPress sites so a pop-up is saying to use WordPress for both the user and password. If you have a user name for this site and plan on commenting, or such, go ahead and do as it says. If you’re just here to read, hit cancel.
Two, my classes for Spring 2017 have shown up on Moodle. Moodle is the program used to organize and control online classes at the U of M. It looks like I’m up for a lot of writing this semester as both classes are writing intensive. Unfortunately I was a bit late in getting around to registering for classes, so I didn’t have much of a choice. And that’s alright. I need to bone up on academic writing anyway. I am going to be much busier this semester than last. And last semester kicked my ass! Thankfully I don’t have any lectures I need to be watching 3 times a week like I did with Intro to Psychology. That was brutal. However, I believe there will be a weekly presentation in the Pharmacy class. Oh, and only one class has a text book, which is History of Psychology.
Technically both classes start on the 17th. However, I am planning on getting a jump on them this weekend. Actually, I already got a jump on both by watching the introduction videos. My hope is that though I’m taking 6 credits this semester, they will be less work overall than the 4 credit Intro to Psychology class of last semester.
Denouement
Denouement: the final clarification or resolution of a plot in a play or other work
In case anyone is wondering; no, Two Thousand Sixteen did not give us any type of denouement.
Two Thousand Sixteen
Because, quite frankly, I have to admit that though Two Thousand Sixteen may have had some great moments (and all years have their share) Two Thousand Sixteen has had way too many bad things happen. I’m not saying that we all ought just look at the negative things that occurred under the watch of Two Thousand Sixteen, but I sure as hell don’t advise ignoring them either.
I’m a pragmatic. I believe in seeing what is right in front of me. I also believe in taking ownership of the experience occurring to me in the moment. And whether good, bad, or indifferent, my experience in the moment is the result of the passage of time. Memory is the lingering of time.
I’ve been through tough times a plenty. And truth be told Two Thousand Sixteen doesn’t come close to the challenges I’ve faced in the past. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Just not as bad. But it still hurts. My icons, my role models, and even my hopes have been seriously impacted by Two Thousand Sixteen. I’m not going to recap them all here and now – possibly not ever – but suffice it to say Two Thousand Sixteen feels more like a harbinger of things to come than an ending of hardships.
I hope I am wrong.
Then I remember: This too shall pass.
So I am hoping the best for Two Thousand Seventeen, while keeping an eye out for the worst.
Rejecting the Great Man Theory of 2016
Megan Carpentier says that liberals should stop asking whether Donald Trump is a Nazi—not because the comparison is meaningless, but because the question misses the point in an extraordinarily American way. The Nazis gained power in Germany through democratic elections and maintained it through maintaining the support of a plurality, if not a true majority,…
I have to say; I can’t argue with her premise. The voters are responsible for being educated about for whom they vote. Even worse? Some people voted for Trump because of his fascist leanings. It reminds me of a story told by David Neiwert about the German population that lived near a concentration camp during WW2:
When he was a young man, he told us, he served in the U.S.
Army as part of the occupation forces in Germany after World
War II. He was put to work gathering information for the military
tribunal, which was preparing to prosecute Nazi war criminals
at Nuremberg. His job was to spend time in the villages
adjacent to one concentration camp and talk to the residents
about what they knew.
The villagers, he said, knew about the camp, and watched
daily as thousands of prisoners would arrive by rail car, herded
like cattle into the camp. Even though the camp never could
have held the vast numbers of prisoners who were brought in,
the villagers knew that no one ever left. They also knew that the
smokestack of the camp’s crematorium belched a near-steady
stream of smoke and ash. Yet the villagers chose to remain ignorant
about what went on inside the camp. No one inquired, because
no one wanted to know.
“But every day,” he said, “these people, in their neat Germanic
way, would get out their feather dusters and go outside.
And, never thinking about what it meant, they would sweep off
the layer of ash that would settle on their windowsills overnight.
Then they would return to their neat, clean lives and pretend
not to notice what was happening next door.”
“When the camps were liberated and their contents were
revealed, they all expressed surprise and horror at what had
gone on inside,” he said. “But they all had ash in their feather
dusters.”
What will those who voted for Trump say should some atrocity occur during his term?
In any case, if we are a government of the people, by the people, for the people it is then the people who are ultimately responsible for the leaders they elect.