Semisimian

I’m missing context on this one. I walk away from Lemmy for ONE day and…

Hell arrived a while ago and it is summer on Lake Myvatn, or Midge Lake. You can’t breathe without inhaling insects, so you have to wear a mask just in case a cloud of those things happen your way.

He is in the article and mentioned as a lefty, but just absent from the article’s title. I agree, just say “one out of 40” and you still make your point.

E.B. Farnum from Deadwood (the HBO show, anyway. Who knows what he was like in real life?)

From monticello.org

When injustice becomes law, resistance becomes duty.

This statement has not been found in Thomas Jefferson’s writings, although it captures some of the ideas that Jefferson expressed in the Declaration of Independence, e.g. “…when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government…”

• Anna Berkes, 4/11/13

First attribution of the above quote was 2006. I like the “tyranny” substitution.

Well, that’s one area you definitely don’t want dandelions growing.

They’re related, those incestuous, chinless WASPs. Brother takes sister to a formal dance and stops by the pharmacy to get a malt and let Dad get a whiff of sister’s corsage. Keep it in the family!

Sir, this is a Wendy’s.

Pets help us understand our own mortality in ways that continue to surprise me. When I was young, the first pet I lost was a young cat, just a few years old. I raised her from a kitten that was probably too young to ween so we had a close bond. She was indoor/outdoor and was attacked by a neighbor’s dog during the day when I was gone. Holding her and watching her die broke me, like she waited all day to die in my arms. She was mine and I felt like I let her down. Woof, it hurt. Still does.

But while I was holding her, our family dog (Allison) was next to me. She was older than I was, a feisty Lhasa Apso that had lost her ability to hold her bladder. We diapered her: we’d cut a hole in human diapers to pull her tail through to keep the hardwoods from getting ruined. She died a year later, after living a full life.

I buried both of them in the front yard, under a couple of pines that bordered our neighbor’s pet cemetery. Both times, digging those holes gave me the time I needed to be able to return them to the earth and say goodbye. I learned so much from their passing. It is the last gift our pets give us, their final act of love.

Now, older, with kids of my own, we have Sadie, who I am looking at as I write this. She’s a rescue, probably a golden mixed with some border collie, at least 16 years old. Her sister died last year and it was the first close death my kids experienced. Her passing taught my kids the alchemy of aging gracefully, the privilege of old age. Now, they find charm in Sadie’s rickety hips and excuse her incontinence. Getting old is okay; we are lucky to be able to do it. Watching your loved ones get old is a privilege we should cherish.

Edit: I wanted to thank OP for posting this. Reading your observations of your aging cat brought It all forward.

My Thermador is no different, shitty ice maker.

He’s great. I first heard him on a Ninja Tune compilation. I got to see him in a 100 seater doing a poetry night. All snaps!