agri-culture

Posted on September 4, 2025 by greg

The only thing I know about keeping livestock is…okay, I don’t know anything about keeping livestock. I mean, I know it’s hard work. I don’t know that from experience, since I’ve never kept livestock, but even sharing space with a pet (cats and dogs, certainly, and probably birds and lizards, what do I know?) means cleaning up after them. Even the tidiest of cats uses a litterbox and somebody has to deal with that.

Why am I talking about this? Because looking over the photographs I took at the recent Iowa State Fair, I noticed I have a lot of photos of farm people cleaning stuff. Cleaning their animals, cleaning the gear needed to take care of their animals, cleaning the things their animals pull, cleaning up massive amounts of animal shit. Everywhere I went, men and women and kids were busy cleaning.

And when I say ‘cleaning their animals,’ I don’t mean they were just washing them (although there’s an astonishing amount of animal-washing going on all the time). I mean they’re shampooing them, blow-drying them, combing them, trimming them, vacuuming them.

Seriously, people were vacuuming off…something, I don’t know what. Loose hair? Dandruff? Barn grit? No idea, but everywhere you go in the animal barns at the fair, there are men and women and kids vacuuming their livestock.

Women grooming sheep while men sit and chat.

These animals weren’t just being cleaned; they were being groomed. Meticulously groomed. (Okay, sorry, a slight tangent here. The term groom has a slightly hazy etymology. It’s probably(?) related to the Old English growan, meaning ‘to grow.’ At any rate, by the 14th century groom referred to a male servant who attended to officers (and their gear and horses) in a noble household. By the 19th century, the noun had been verbed, and groom referred to the process of tidying up or preparing for a purpose. So groom referred to both a person and what the person did. I don’t know why I thought you needed to know that, but there it is.)

A young girl vacuuming (or blow-drying) a cow.

As I was saying, these livestock animals (and I’m talking about cows, horses, pigs, goats, sheep, llamas, alpacas (is that the plural of ‘alpaca’?), rabbits, and chickens (do rabbits and chickens count as livestock? No idea.) are meticulously groomed. It’s clear that some of the grooming is done in the hope of winning a prize, but it was also clear that much of it was done out of pride and affection. That was especially true of the younger people.

Here’s a thing you probably need to understand. All this cleaning and grooming? It’s taking place in and around massive cooperative barns housing hundreds of animals. Animals are noisy, so these barns are a constant barrage of animal noises. Also? Animals shit and piss a lot. I mean, a LOT. And they’re not particular about where or when they do it. So even though there’s a constant stream (so to speak) of people shoveling, sweeping up, and carting of waste products (the logistics of livestock waste management must be staggering), the fact remains that these massive barns…well, they smell like you’d think they’d smell, but not as bad as you’d expect.

What I’m trying to say here is that there’s an astonishing amount of hard work done by the farm families who bring their livestock to the fair, and all that work makes the environment as pleasant as possible. One of my reasons for visiting the animal barns during the State Fair is to look at animals, of course, but it’s also to see this remarkable group of people cobble together a shared sense of community. There’s something very tribal about it. And as a sociologist by training, it’s fascinating.

But here’s the problem with being a sociologist: I know that the farming community I see at the State Fair is, largely, a myth. Around 40% of farms in Iowa are owned by corporations. Modern farming, even among non-corporate farms, is a business more than a self-sufficient way of life. The farming life we witness at the State Fair is something of a sentimental homage to an idea of rural living from the past. An homage grounded in nostalgia and an agrarian myth.

But so what? I’d argue there’s value in that. The fact is, it’s not corporations who are grooming their livestock at the State Fair. It’s not corporations who are hauling manure and polishing wagon wheels. It’s families doing that.

My visits to the State Fair animal barns always leave me impressed (and yes, a wee bit stunned by the smell and noise). I leave those barns profoundly grateful there are people–families–still willing to do the hard work of making sure the world gets fed. As myths go, this is a pretty damned good one, and I’m glad folks are keeping it alive.

not the weirdest thing i’ve done

Posted on August 24, 2025 by greg

A couple of days ago I wrote about a photograph I’d taken of some cracks and oil stains in a random patch of blacktop. It may seem a wee bit weird to photograph a patch of blacktop, but…well, just wait. In that post, I briefly referred to the fact that there’s a difference between blacktop and asphalt. That sparked a reply to the post, and that reply reminded me of an earlier crushed stone and bitumen-related photograph I’d taken fifteen years ago.

Now that was weird.

Back in November of 2010 I was noodling around a location where a local supermarket had been demolished. All that remained of the store was its foundational slab and what had once been a parking lot. That’s where I came across something odd.

Yep, that’s a chunk of asphalt curbing around which somebody had tied a strand of red PVC-coated wire. Why would somebody do that? I don’t know, but I assumed it was to make it easier to carry. Why would somebody want to carry a chunk of asphalt curbing? No idea. I located the spot from which the curbing had been removed about 20 yards away. There were several similar chunks of broken asphalt curbing. But somebody had selected that particular chunk, tied red PVC wire around it, and moved it.

Why? No fucking clue. But it was odd, and I do love things that are odd.

So I returned to that spot about six weeks later. The chunk of curbing was still there. It had snowed, but the snow had melted off the chunk. A heron had apparently been curious enough to check it out. Not sure if that meant the heron was as curious as I was, or if I was as stupid as a heron.

Anyway, I stood there in the snow for a while, trying to cobble together some semi-logical reason for somebody to tie some PVC wire around a chunk of curbing and carry it twenty yards before dropping it. I was sure there was a logical reason; not necessarily logical to me, but logical to the person who did it. But I’m damned if I could figure it out.

I found myself occasionally wondering about that chunk of curbing and the red PVC wire. Did the person just happen to have some red PVC wire in their pocket? Had they deliberately brought the wire with them, intending to move the chunk of curbing? And why why why would they want to move it in the first place? It made no sense, but I was intrigued by it.

So I went back again on a cold, wet, foggy day in February. And yep, it was still there.

It wasn’t just strange; it was also visually interesting. I was taken with that red PVC wire. I considered taking hold of the wire and lifting the chunk, just to see how heavy it was. But I was reluctant to disturb it. It wasn’t just an object of curiosity anymore. That’s when I began to think of the chunk of curbing as a possible photo project. Which meant it didn’t seem right to intentionally change anything about the subject matter.

I returned to visit the chunk of curbing about a month later and was shocked to see it had been moved. Somebody had apparently picked it up, carried it about twenty-five feet, at which point the red PVC wire had snapped.

I can’t imagine many people would find a reason to noodle around the detritus of a former supermarket. But IF somebody did, and IF that somebody happened upon the chunk of curbing, then surely they’d be tempted to pick it up. I mean, I’d been tempted to pick it up myself. The way the PVC wire was wrapped around the chunk of curbing–it was clearly intended for it to be picked up. Who could resist it?

Somebody didn’t resist it. Somebody had seen it, had picked it up, and toted the chunk of curbing twenty-five feet. Hell, that was the most understandable thing about the whole situation.

I didn’t get back to visit my pet chunk of asphalt curbing until late in the summer. As I approached, I saw two chunks. I thought maybe whomever had moved the curbing back in the spring must have returned and broken it.

But no. It was a second chunk of asphalt curbing. Somebody–maybe the same person who’d moved it earlier–had apparently gone to the spot where other chunks of curbing were scattered, picked up another chunk, carried it to the vicinity of my pet chunk, and dropped it.

This compounded the WTFedness of the situation. It reinforced the original weirdness. It made no sense at all. It was insane. It was…kind of wonderful. I was oddly pleased by the development.

I returned a month later. Not much had changed. Some orangish lichen had grown in a nearby crack and I spent some time trying to find a way to photograph the red PVC wire and the orange lichen, but nothing seemed to work. In the end, I just documented my chunk of asphalt curbing along with its companion.

I figured I’d just about come to the end of the chunk’s story. I was still curious about the whole thing, but the original aura weirdness was beginning to fade.

Still, I’d developed something of a perverse relationship with that chunk of curbing. I felt a need to check on it. So of course I went back.

The red PVC wire had moved. It had broken six months earlier, but a length of it had been trapped beneath the chunk of curbing. How did it get loose? Maybe a bird or animal had tugged on the wire and freed it? In any event, I took it as a sign (No, not that sort of sign; just an ordinary sign) that the project was at an end. Surely, the wire would soon get blown away. Without the red PVC wire, the chunk of curbing was just a chunk of curbing. As soon as it was gone, the photo project would be over.

I gave it a couple of months. I went back in December. Nothing had changed. As near as I could tell, the red PVC wire hadn’t even moved. That was…weird. You’d think that over the course of two months something would have moved the wire. But that was just minor league weird compared to the overall weirdness.

Still, I’d made the decision that I’d keep coming back until the red wire was gone. So I returned in the spring. The entire area was fenced off and construction equipment was tearing up the old parking lot.

There’s an apartment complex there now.

I no longer live in that area, but maybe once or twice a year there’ll be a reason for me to pass nearby. And when I do, I think about that chunk of asphalt curbing, and the bright red PVC-insulated wire, and the person who’d tied the wire into a parcel-carrier. And I wonder what in the hell they’d been doing, and why. And it pleases me that I’ll never know the answer.

the way to end the genocide in Gaza is…

Posted on May 24, 2024 by greg

…not to vote in the 2024 election, I guess?

Well, that’s what some people seem to believe. I’m basing this on recent Bsky comments responding to my ‘voting is like taking a bus‘ analogy. Granted, the voting-bus analogy is flawed. Anytime you compare a thing to a different thing, the comparison will fall short, because (obviously) they are two separate things. Still, I think that analogy is/was useful in explaining WHY I’ll be grudgingly voting for Biden in the 2024 election. Here, briefly, is the analogy:

The U.S. government is a bus. The 2024 election is about who’ll drive the bus. If neither bus driver will take the bus directly to the place we want to be, it makes sense to choose the driver who’ll deliver us closest to where we want to be.

Several people on Bsky used the analogy to lament the choice of bus drivers and/or wish there was a better bus driver we could choose. Here are some of their responses:

— There are two buses that are driving toward hell at slightly different rates, I would like to turn around and take a bus away from hell
— If my desired destination required that the bus run over tens of thousands of innocent people to get me where I was going, I’d simply not ride that bus and find some other way to get there
— So if I want guaranteed healthcare, take the genocide bus, got it.
— why don’t we change the bus routes so the bus goes where people actually want to go instead of only going to the dump.

I don’t blame these folks. I’m not happy with the choices either, or with the system that limited our choices. Unfortunately, the system we have IS the system we have. It takes time to change an entire electoral system and, sadly, the only way to change it is by voting for people who’ll change the system (very few of which are running for national office).

For a lot of these folks, the solution is obvious. Don’t take the bus. Don’t vote. They argue that voting for Biden is essentially endorsing genocide. They say Biden’s support of genocide is so defining they can’t, in good conscience, vote for him.

These folks have an uncomfortably valid point. Here’s an exchange I had with one person:

Them: Here’s the problem with this analogy: The place I want to go is a free and safe Palestine. Not only is Biden going nowhere near there, it’s impossible to get there on one’s own.
Me: I would also like a free, safe, independent Palestine. Tell me, who should I vote for to get that? I’m willing to be convinced. Hell, I’m eager to be convinced.
Them: Neither. That’s the point.
Me: So your suggestion is…not to vote? Does that help anybody at all? Voting for either Biden or Trump–or not voting at all–isn’t going to help anybody in Gaza or the West Bank. For me, personally, there are other reasons to vote; friends & family who will suffer more under Trump. Yes, the lesser of 2 evils is still evil, but it’s less evil. I can settle for that.
Them: Well, many can’t. Either get Biden to change or deal with it.

A lot of these folks argue they’ll vote for the down ballot candidates–the members of the U.S. Congress, state legislators, local offices–but not for Biden as POTUS. But here’s the thing: POTUS sets foreign policy. Congress controls the budget, but the agenda for foreign relations is established by the president. If your primary concern is a safe, independent Palestinian state, your choices are limited to a guy who reluctantly contributed to genocide or a guy who enthusiastically endorses it.

Forget the bus analogy. Instead, think of the coming election like this: somebody is going to pound a nail through the foot of every Palestinian. You have a choice: a) a ten-penny nail, or b) a railroad spike. It’s an ugly choice. In a better world, we could choose between two leaders who want to teach Palestinians to dance. But we don’t live in that world. The best we can do right now is try to reduce the harm.

I’ll be voting for Joe Biden AND doing what I can to pressure him and Congress to stop the genocide. Yes, it’s contradictory. But Walt Whitman was right; we are large, we contain multitudes.

EDITORIAL NOTE: Biden is also significantly better than Trump on a number of issues, including the environment, labor, LGBTQ issues, voting rights, civil liberties, infrastructure, taxes, and a lot of other policy stuff. Still awful on his support for Netanyahu, but multitudes and all that.

hello sweetie

Posted on May 12, 2024 by greg

SPOILERS HERE!
THERE WILL BE SPOILERS
INITIATE SPOILER ALERT SYSTEM
ALL THE SPOILERS FIT TO PRINT

Okay, I’ve watched all three episodes (yes, I’m including The Church on Ruby Road as an episode) of the newest version of Doctor Who…and I’m concerned.

I’m not concerned about Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor. He seems to be a natural Doctor, which perhaps is because unlike every other new Doctor, he didn’t have to go through the whole ‘Who am I this time?’ fuss. And I’m not concerned about Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday, although she’s at risk of being perky. Nor am I concerned about the basic plot structure of these three episodes; they all seem like classic Doctor Who events. They fit perfectly in the Doctor approach as described by Neil Gaiman:

[T]here’s a blue box. It’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. It can go anywhere in time and space and sometimes even where it’s meant to go. And when it turns up, there’s a bloke in it called The Doctor and there will be stuff wrong and he will do his best to sort it out.

We see that in each of these three episodes. We’ve had a baby kidnapped by goblins; we’ve had babies abandoned in space who are threatened by a snot monster, and we’ve had a villain who has essentially stolen music from the world. These are all great Doctor Who scenarios—they’re all classic problems for the Doctor and Ruby to ‘sort out.’ I’m not concerned about any of this.

The goblin musical number from *The Church on Ruby Road*.

What I AM concerned about is the nature of the show itself. Of the three episodes so far, two of them have included musical numbers. I’m talking about incorporating theatrical singing (and dancing) as a part of the narrative (as opposed to something organic but incidental WITHIN the episode…like hearing music on the radio or a band performing). What the fuck is that about?

I’m not opposed to singing and dancing…but why? What’s the point? Did the singing and dancing contribute to the story? No. Did it develop the characters? No. This is Doctor Who filmed like Disney’s Little Mermaid or Moana. It’s turning Doctor Who into Singing in the Rain or Guys and Dolls.

The song & dance number from *The Devil’s Chord*

Don’t get me wrong. I like musicals. On any given day, you might find me humming or singing tunes from My Fair Lady. I’d be perfectly fine with an actual musical episode (like the brilliant Buffy the Vampire Slayer sixth season episode Once More with Feeling), but personally, I don’t want a Doctor who might, at any moment, burst into song and dance instead of acting and using dialog.

The thing is, the musical numbers in those two episodes were superfluous. They didn’t contribute to the story in any meaningful way. In fact, I’d argue they diminished the show. I’d argue they distracted the viewer from the events within the story world.

So there it is. I love Doctor Who, but I’m concerned about the direction the show is taking. I’m excited about Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor. I think Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday shows a lot of promise. I’ll continue to watch Doctor Who, but I’ve lost some of my enthusiasm for it. I’m uneasy about the next episodes. I hope the new relationship with Disney doesn’t result in a Disneyfied Doctor. But that seems to be a real risk.

EDITORIAL NOTE: That said, the end scene in which The Doctor and Ruby recreate the dancing on the piano moment from Tom Hanks’ movie Big while on the zebra crosswalk from the Beatles’ Abbey Road album was fucking brilliant.

the end of kristi noem

Posted on April 28, 2024 by greg

Like you, I was curious how the ‘patriots’ at Free Republic would respond to the story of South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem killing her 14-month-old puppy, Cricket.

It’s possible you’re unaware of this story. It’s included in Noem’s soon-to-be published autobiography, No Going Back: The Truth on What’s Wrong with Politics and How We Move America Forward. She suggests the young wirehair pointer was “untrainable” and “less than worthless as a hunting dog.” So she took the puppy to a gravel pit and shot it. And as long as she was in the shooting animals mood, she also fetched a smelly billy goat, took it to the gravel pit, and shot it too. Fewer people are concerned about the goat.

Okay, maybe you weren’t really interested in how Freepers responded to the story. Maybe you hadn’t even given Freepers a moment of thought. Hell, you’d probably prefer not to think about them at all. And who could blame you? But because FreeRepublic is one of the more vitriolic and zealous branches of the MAGAverse, I’m inclined to see them through a canary-in-the-coal-mine lens. They can be predictive of MAGA behavior. So I periodically check in to see what these folks have to say about current events.

I assumed they’d defend Noem’s puppycide, and for the most part, they did. There was also a sizable anti-puppycide contingent. What surprised me (though it shouldn’t have) was a third group; people who were either pro-puppycide or puppycide ambivalent BUT were adamant that Noem’s problem was openly confessing to her puppycidal behavior. There were a LOT of ‘If you’re going to kill puppies, DON’T talk about it comments. In the interest of brevity, I’m only going to include this single example of this group:

How she could be so dumb to write about killing a puppy basically is beyond me.
by toddausauras

The discussion thread I reviewed was called This is The End of Kristie Noem Even if Trump Picks Her, so much of the ‘analysis’ and opinion was dribbled through a filter of her viability as a candidate for Comrade Trump’s vice presidential ticket. Maybe 15-20% of Freepers agreed that killing a puppy was, all by itself, disqualifying. Here’s a representative sample:

She can’t handle a simple 14 month old dog.
by NoLibZone

Noem said she “hated that dog” and deemed it “less than worthless”.
She killed it out of hate. And then she wrote about it in her book as if it were a perfectly normal thing to kill animals you hate. That is textbook sociopathic behavior.
by 10mm

Anyone that does something like this, and thinks it makes her seem like a leader, is a POS. Trump needs to pick a man, and skip the backward notion of women in high office. They try to hard to seem strong enough, and fail to realize that leadership and strength require thought as well as action.
by MagaMatt

While unlike Pit Bulls and some others, I think a wirehair pointer would quickly find adoption, and which should have been her choice. And where is the man of the house in all this?
by daniel1212 (Turn 2 the Lord Jesus who saves damned+destitute sinners on His acct, believe, b baptized+follow HIM)

A number of anti-puppycide Freepers seem to think Noem’s willingness to kill a puppy (and let’s not forget the male goat) had something to do with being a woman. I wasted some time trying to work out the misogynistic logic there. I mean, are they arguing that the puppycide could have been averted if only a strong man had been around to prevent her hysterical reaction? Or that killing a puppy is okay if a man does it? I gave up trying to reason that out; that way madness lies.

The majority of Freeper responses fell into the pro-puppycide category. Some felt shooting the dog was acceptable though unfortunate. Most, however, defended her, arguing it was actually necessary for her to execute the puppy (and the goat). Predictably, some Freepers found it amusing; some actually reveled in the cruelty of the act. Here is a representative sample:

Puppy? Let me know when you adopt a “puppy” that attacks and eats your children.
by Responsibility2nd

A lot of people don’t understand that dogs aren’t only pets, some are actually working animals that are expected to do a job and their owners depend on their ability to do that job for their livelihood, and that if they can’t do their job their owners don’t have the resources either time or money to keep them as pets.
by Truthsearcher

She killed a dog?
Maybe the postal workers union will endorse her.
She may even become “Cat Fancier” magazine’s “Woman of the Year.”
by x (She’s only killing the dogs the illegals can’t be bothered killing.)

The joyful chicken killer.
Chicken Lives Matter.
How many eggs did Cricket produce?
by kiryandil

One of the biggest hopes America has of not going full-Islam is Americans’ love of dogs.
Regardless of how much sense can be made of her killing a dog, it won’t fly with the vast majority of dog owners.
We supposedly need some soccer moms to vote for Trump. Soccer moms are not going to vote for a dog-killer.
by who_would_fardels_bear

Noem did the right thing shooting the dog. You’re highly sensitive aren’t you?
by Macho MAGA Man

I find nothing wrong with killing a dog that wont hunt. or a nasty goat.
and a billy goat that is mean could hurt someone if it got out. and you can eat it.
by Ikeon (My only issues with stupid people are, they encouraged to talk and post stupid opinions.. )

I would like her even more if she made slippers from cricket’s pelt.
by Wilderness Conservative (Nature is the ultimate conservative)

These examples don’t show the actual scope of the Freep responses to Noem’s puppycide. There were several comments comparing shooting a puppy to abortion. Some ignored Noem and the puppycide altogether and just advocated other potential VP selections. And some comments had no obvious connection at all to the topic being discussed. But it wouldn’t be FreeRepublic without a bit of random casual racism, so I’ll add one more comment.

She had to have some Indian blood, as seen from the high cheekbones.
by nwrep

Noem, responding to folks to the anti-puppycide crowd, referred to this and other stories in her book as “real, honest, and politically incorrect.” Seriously, politically incorrect. As if there was a political stance involved in killing an adolescent dog.

It’s to be hoped that the title of her book is prophetic. Let’s hope there’s no coming back for her. Let’s hope the Freep discussion thread was accurate, that this IS the end of Kristi Noem.

EDITORIAL NOTE: We need to burn the patriarchy. Burn it and bury the ashes with a wooden stake driven directly through where its heart should have been. Then burn the stake. Burn the patriarchy and salt the earth where its ashes are buried. Keep salting the earth for generations. Then nuke it from orbit. Then tea and biscuits.

box of glasses

Posted on December 5, 2023 by greg

I don’t know about you (seriously, I can in all honesty say that I absolutely do not know about you), but whenever I come across a box full of old eyeglasses, I fall victim to a sort of mild compulsion. I feel the need to put them on. It’s not an irresistible compulsion; I could probably hold out against it, if I really wanted to. But why would I?

Perhaps you also feel that same impulse when you come across a box full of old eyeglasses. It’s possible. But like I said, I don’t know about you.

In any event, I did, in fact, recently come across a box full of old eyeglasses while clearing out some shelves in the garage. I don’t know how many pairs of glasses. Dozens, both men’s and women’s, both regular glasses and prescription sunglasses. And hey, I gave in to that compulsion. I gave in without any hesitation at all. I wanted to see what the world looked like through a series of lenses generated for other people.

[SPOILER: it looks blurry.]

And almost immediately I felt another mild compulsion: I wanted to see what they looked like on somebody’s face. But you can’t just ask somebody to sit and try on old eyeglasses that belonged to other people, all of whom are dead. You can’t ask somebody to do that just for your own amusement. I mean, you can ask them to do that, but it would be awfully presumptuous.

So instead, I turned to the Model of Primary Convenience. Me.

I don’t take many selfies. I know what I look like; I’ve had this same face all my life, so there’s nothing there for me to discover. And, in all honesty, I’m sort of uncomfortable taking photographs of myself (unless it’s a reflection in a window or something).

But there I was, under a mild compulsion, sitting at a table with a box full of eyeglasses and my Pixel phone in front of me. So, I put on the first pair of eyeglasses I pulled out of the box (women’s cat-eye glasses) and I took a selfie. And I looked at it. And it was sort of hilarious.

So I did it again, with a different pair of eyeglasses.

Here’s a True Thing about people who spend years shooting photographs: you sometimes stumble upon an idea that feels like it’s worth repeating. It becomes a project. Eventually, I tried on 25 different pairs of eyeglasses and took a selfie in each of them.

This wasn’t as simple as it sounds (and it sounds really simple). Lots of the glasses I put on were so strong they were disorienting. Others were so dark they were difficult to see through. I often had to guess when I was properly framed so I could press the shutter release (which, yes, I know, isn’t actually a shutter release; it was either call it a shutter release or the button, and the button makes it sound like I was launching a thermonuclear weapon).

I tried to maintain the same facial expression in all the photos because…well, I don’t really know. Some perverted notion of uniformity, maybe? Something to do with the notion of an internally consistent photo project. In any event, it was really difficult to maintain the same expression, partly because I kept wanting to laugh and partly because the glasses distorted my sense of reality to the degree that I often couldn’t see my expression clearly enough to maintain it.

Earlier, I wrote that I tried on twenty-five different pairs of eyeglasses and took a selfie in each of them. I probably tried on twice that many; I just didn’t take a selfie in all of them. A lot of the old eyeglasses were similar in design, so there was no point in photographing them. I mean, one pair of aviator-style glasses looks a lot like every other pair of aviator-style glasses.

A lot of those similar looking eyeglasses had radically different prescription strengths. It probably won’t surprise anybody to learn that trying on a few dozen different eyeglasses of various prescription levels will can you a whanging headache. So if I failed to keep my expression the same in all the photos–if, in some of the photos, I look confused or dazed or disoriented or dangerously unbalanced–now you know why.

I did all this entirely to entertain myself, of course. I’m sort of embarrassed to admit that’s my reason for doing a lot of the stuff I do. But having turned my personal amusement into something of a photo project–having shot a couple dozen selfies in various eyeglasses–I find myself thinking some of you might find it amusing as well.

Besides, I firmly believe in Stieglitz’s concept of practicing in public, of showing work that doesn’t quite meet your standards for what the work could be. He wrote:

[I]f one does not practice in public in reality, then in nine cases out of ten the world will never see the finished product of one’s work. Some people go on the assumption that if a thing is not a hundred percent perfect it should not be given to the world

Stieglitz talked a lot of bullshit, but he was spot on in this regard. I don’t feel any need for ‘the world’ to see the stuff I do, but I’m a firm believer in sharing anything I think somebody somewhere might find interesting. Even when it makes me look ridiculous.

the behan school of economic theory

Posted on May 27, 2023 by greg

Let me admit up front that I understand economic theory about as well as I understand quantum field theory. I have, at best, a vague grasp of some of the concepts. This is one of the reasons I belong to the Brendan Behan School of Economic Theory. It may be simple but I find it easy to understand and support. I advocate:

“…that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.”

That’s a solid foundation; start right there and build on it. We should…no, wait. I meant to write about the debt ceiling bullshit. How’d I get distracted this quickly? Okay, rewind. Hit ‘start’.

I find all of this fuss about the debt ceiling to be simultaneously offensive and boring as fuck. It’s perfectly obvious to everybody that the Republican Party is threatening to fuck up the US economy–and the global economy to some extent–unless President Uncle Joe agrees to their demands. What’s less obvious is the astonishing fact that the GOP can’t even agree amongst themselves what their demands are. They’re basically saying, “We’ll shoot your dog unless you agree to do a thing and we’ll let you know what that thing is after you agree to it.”

I’m hoping President Uncle Joe has a secret plan up his sleeve. Or tucked away in a hidden pocket. Or under his hat. He’s been pretty good at teasing the GOP along, then quietly kicking them in the nuts. So it’s a real possibility that he’s openly cooperating with the House Republicans, knowing they’ll never come up with a workable solution, at which point he can say, “I tried to be reasonable” and then just kick them in the nuts.

Personally, I’d prefer it if he just told them to go fuck themselves. He should just tell the Treasury Department to mint the platinum trillion dollar coin and deposit it in the US’s savings account. This idea has been floating in the econoverse for a few decades. Is it legal? Who knows? Do it anyway. Let the Republicans legally challenge it and take it to SCOTUS. That’ll take some time, during which the debts will be paid by the coin and the global economy will continue to totter on.

“Your Honor, justice DEMANDS that we be allowed to fuck up the world’s economy!”

And what happens if SCOTUS says, “Uncle Joe, my dude, you just can’t mint a coin and spend it like that”? Fine, at that point Uncle Joe should just issue an executive order saying the notion of a debt ceiling violates the 14th Amendment. Let the Republicans legally challenge that and take it to SCOTUS. That’ll take more time, during which the debts will be paid and the global economy will continue to totter on.

And if SCOTUS says, “Sorry Uncle Joe, but dude you’ve interpreted the 14th Amendment incorrectly”? Fine, at that point Uncle Joe should just issue an executive order saying the debt ceiling violates the Contracts Clause of the US Constitution. Let the Republicans legally challenge that as well, and take it to SCOTUS. That’ll take still more time, during which the debts will be paid and the global economy will continue to totter on.

And if SCOTUS says, “Uncle Joe, c’mon, that’s not how the Contracts Clause works”? Fine, at that point Uncle Joe should just issue coupon free bonds. I don’t have a clue what a coupon free bond is, but I’ve heard the idea offered as a wonky solution to the debt ceiling. It might be complete bullshit. I don’t care. Whatever it is, let the GOP legally challenge it and take it to SCOTUS. That’ll once again take more time, during which the debts will be paid and the global economy will yada yada yada.

You get the point. If the GOP keeps fucking with the national debt, POTUSUJ should keep fucking with the GOP. He should keep making the Republican Party AND/OR the Republican Party’s SCOTUS responsible for trying to NOT pay the debt. Keep that stupid shit up until it’s time for the 2024 election. Campaign on the GOP (and the sociopath they choose as their nominee) trying desperately to ruin the US economy.

I’ll admit, that’s a shitty way to govern a nation. But the GOP has been enshittifying the US for decades. They’ve succeeded in making the US a fairly shitty nation. But shitty is as shitty does. It’s time we make the Republican Party eat its own sociopathy.

EDITORIAL NOTE: None of this is well thought out. It’s not really a plan. This is just me on a Saturday morning rant while I’m drinking coffee. You’d have to be an idiot to take me serious when I’m talking about economics.

ADDENDUM: Well, who’d a thunk it? Less than a day later, President Uncle Joe and the Squeaker of the House have reached what they call a ‘tentative’ agreement. It fits nicely inside my earlier comment about POTUSUJ “teasing the GOP along, then quietly kicking them in the nuts” except that it appears Uncle Joe has arranged for the GOP to kick themselves in the nuts.

Biden has conceded almost nothing. McCarthy, on the other hand, obtained some small largely symbolic concessions that will make the MAGA wing (can you call it a ‘wing’ when its the majority?) of his party furious, and will likely set the House GOP fighting amongst themselves like rabid wolverines on meth.

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