A typical rural roadside in northeast Iowa.
Note: A preview from my upcoming autobiography, Life’s Too Short to Smoke Cheap Cigars (Or to Drink Cheap Whiskey.)
Along the Road
Back in the day…
One man’s ditch might be a nine-year old boy’s treasure.
Ditches in farm country provide havens for wildlife as well as a safe spot for native plants to grow. As a young boy, I spent many a summer day wandering through these roadside wonderlands.
Everyone should be nine at least once, and able to lay at grasshopper’s eye height in the weeds of a ditch without fear of embarrassment. The wonders of life among the grass blades and weed stems is amazing, and it’s best appreciated at mouse height.
Northeast Iowa’s expansive Yellow River State Forest had the kinds of ditches I liked best. The gravel roads that wandered through the hills and followed the valleys along Paint Creek had nice wide shoulders, and wide, deep ditches on both sides. Where the road wandered along the edge of a bluff, the ditch would narrow to a few feet with a wall of limestone facing the road. The ditches along the roads entertained me on many a happy afternoon as my parents fished for trout in the pools of Paint Creek.
To the nine-year old boy lost in the world of the roadside, the limestone face would be a giant castle, or a vast mountainside; imaginary battles with mounted knights would rage across the turrets and ramparts, or perhaps a larger, imaginary version of my nine-year old self would pursue mountain goats or Dall sheep across the windswept face of the rock. With a spool of thread, I would lash together platforms of twigs on which whole villages would perch on the cliff face, and walkways of weed stems would wind from platform to platform, down to rock ledges that grew crops of moss.
But the greatest adventures were often found in the wide, weed-filled ditch on the other side of the graveled road.
Bait
The denizens of Northeast Iowa’s roadsides ranged from grasshoppers to woodchucks, from ants to badgers, from chipping sparrows to pheasants, and all of them fascinating to a nine-year old.
Bait.
As a young boy I was frequently sent into pastures and weed-covered ditches searching grasshoppers for fishing bait. Trout and bass favor grasshoppers as food; therefore, it follows that trout and bass fishermen, like my father, favor grasshoppers as bait. At the tender age of nine, I was an accomplished grasshopper hunter. Mason jar in hand, I’d spend an hour catching big brown hoppers, little green hoppers, medium-sized speckled hoppers, and stashing them carefully under the jar’s perforated lid.
Catching grasshoppers for bait is delicate work. You have to catch the hoppers alive and unharmed, or they won’t give the right action to entice a hungry trout. This requires stalking skill that would do Davy Crockett proud.
The careful hopper hunter always proceeds into the sun, to keep from casting shadows on the wary insects. Squinting against the glare, I’d slip through the tall grass, watching for the flush of a hopper. The rattle of wings would accompany the flash of a startled hopper’s flight; if not pressed, they’d flutter only a few feet on the first hop, and settle down in the grasses again. Smaller, immature hoppers without fully developed wings would ping off the ground or grass stem, and land prepared to hop again. This, this not-too-spooked-yet first hop, was where the hopper hunter’s skill was to be called on.
Moving so slowly so as not to seem to be moving at all was the key. If I slipped up on the hopper slowly enough to keep it from spooking into a second hop, I could reach forward, slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, and carefully grab the hopper right where the wings joined the thorax. If I missed this all-important grab, the hopper would take off on a spooked second flight that would last twenty or thirty yards, usually into tall grasses; the flightless hoppers would take off on a series of leaps that would end up somewhere out of sight among the weeds.
More often than not, though, I was successful. Even at nine I was an experienced and savvy hopper hunter. The grabbed hopper would kick his muscular hind legs and spit tobacco juice to no avail; into the Mason jar he’d go, with several of his fellows, to see eventual service as bait.
Often on my rambles for grasshoppers I’d enter portions of the roadside where chunks of rocks broke through the soil; Northeast Iowa’s unpredictable karst terrain frequently left blocks of limestone seemingly at random, bursting through the soil in clumps. These areas were frequently where woodchucks, the sentinels of the Iowa roadside, built their burrows.
Woodchucks had the advantage of being tender and tasty like rabbits, while a full-grown adult would be three times as large. Furthermore, Iowa’s woodchuck season opened on June 15th each year, to give farmers a chance to legally pot the pasture-excavating pests; as the fat marmots were a favored meal of my Mom’s, I spent a lot of time prowling ditches with a .22 rifle, stalking the wily chucks.
This One Time:
Woodchuck.
It was on just such an afternoon that a fateful meeting took place, in a ditch bordering the old horse barn meadow in the Yellow River State Forest. As I worked my was stealthily along the ditch, watching intently for the brown-furred form of a woodchuck, a skinny figure coming the other way caught my eye. As I plowed closer through the tall grass, I got a good look at my fellow ‘chuck hunter, who was carrying a battered old .22 of his own. The skinny lad was a year or so older than I, with a shock of brown hair standing straight up on his head, a t-shirt that had apparently once been blue, hickory bib overalls with a moth-eaten squirrel tail tied to the hammer loop, and badly worn tennis shoes that had been white at some point in ancient history. We came face to face in the shadow of a small box-elder tree that hung over the ditch from the side of the field.
“Hey.” I said, by way of greeting.
“Hey” the other boy replied. “My name’s Jon. You huntin’ woodchucks?”
“Yeah.” I gave him my name. “I’m supposed to bring one back for supper.”
“Me too. They’s some holes up that hillside in some rocks.” He pointed to the top of the big hill that stood overlooking the road. “Want we should go have us a look?”
Thus, was an alliance formed that would become the stuff of legend.
Unfortunately, the woodchuck hunt was something less than the stuff of legend.
We proceeded up the hill. Yellow River State Forest is just that, a forest, and the big hills are liberally covered with hardwood timber, but most are capped with open meadows and the occasional rock outcrops. We wandered up through the red oaks and shagbark hickories, arriving at the meadow after about an hour of climbing that took a bit of the wind out of even our youthful sails.
A bit higher, at the crest of the ridge, stood a big outcrop of white limestone. From our spot about a hundred yards away, we could see some dug-up dirt scattered around at the base of the rocks.
“I’ll go around to the left,” Jon said. “You go right. We’ll come on from either side. Figure one of us will get a shot.”
“All right,” I agreed. We split up and started our stalk, with all of the stealth that farm-country nine-year-olds can muster. Swinging wide around the rocks, I went all the way to the top of the ridge and, gripping my heavy old Mossberg bolt-action .22, crept the last few yards in to a spot where I could see the holes. There was a flash of brown fur… I brought up the .22 and aimed.
Then I spotted the distinct pattern of black and white on the animal’s head. Not a woodchuck – a badger. “Careful,” I called to Jon, who was presumably approaching from the other direction. “There’s a badger there by the holes.”
But I was too late. Jon came around a slight bend in the rock face and came face-to-face with the squat mustelid at the range of about ten feet.
Not a woodchuck.
The badger, amazingly, leaped about two feet in the air, changing direction as it did so, and landed poised to spring, an angry snarl twisting its muzzle. Jon raised his .22 pump-gun, but in the penultimate moments of what was otherwise a well-planned and well-executed stalk, he had neglected to chamber a round, and the hammer clicked home on an empty chamber.
The badger charged. Jon fumbled his .22 and dropped it. He turned to run, squealing in alarm – an angry badger rates high on the “don’t mess with” list of any critters native to Allamakee County, nine-year-old boys being no exception.
But badgers aren’t very fast. At their most motivated, a fully-grown buck badger like the one we had encountered can manage a shuffle. Any nine-year-old country boy should be able to outrun one. Jon took off down the hill, the badger in pursuit. I trotted after them, stopping to pick up Jon’s .22 along the way.
I found Jon at the edge of the trees, holding off the annoyed badger with a stick. “Want your .22?” I asked.
Jon responded with a string of oaths that would have been surprising from one so young, at least if one weren’t familiar with northeastern Iowa farm kids in the early Seventies. “No,” Jon concluded, “I’d rather just poke at him with this stick a while longer.”
“OK,” I agreed. “Meet you back down on the road when you’re done.”
Later On:
Jon eventually disentangled himself from the badger, and after retrieving his .22, which I had thoughtfully carried back down the hill, we hunted the roadside ditches for a couple more hours without finding any woodchucks. I suspect that Jon, like me, ended up with leftovers rather than woodchuck casserole for supper, but that wasn’t that unusual when your meal depends on hunter’s fortune.
I’ve never really outgrown my interest in roadsides. Roadside ditches may hold wild berries or asparagus as well as furry critters suitable for turning into casseroles. In many places walking along the ditch in spring or early summer will get you dive-bombed by red-winged blackbirds who favor those locales for nesting. In winter, snowmobile owners ride the ditches for miles, an activity I’ve never quite caught on with but one that’s very popular to this day in the upper Midwest.
A quiet country road in nice weather is a nice place for a walk no matter your age.
You don’t First as many times as I have without learning a thing or two about a thing or two.
Like being a cunte?
When did cunt start getting an E attached on the end?
It had to do with the working title for Mojeaux’s medieval romance book, where somehow it ended up with ye olde englishe extra e and became the default spelling as an inside reference for Glibs.
I remember her title, but didn’t know that everyone had just adopted it from there.
“Everyone” might be overstating it, but there is common enough adoption among Glibs.
It should have been written in Animal’s Truisms
Glibs are quick to recognize a good idea. They do not fear change.
You were one minute late Mr. Brochettaward, do you think that kind of slovenliness will get you something?
Your adventures in those ditches reminds me of myself at 9. We lived in the suburbs, so no ditches, but my favorite thing was to build a fort in the neighbor’s bushes. We even had little pendulum traps and alarms.
We had the creek behind the house I grew up in. Full of wonders like crawfish, frogs, salamanders, and snakes. Some of the snakes, of course, were more dangerous than others. A friend of mine’s sister got bitten by a copperhead once near the creek. Sucked to be her.
Indeed. Our place was surrounded by miles and miles of pine tree/palmetto scrub cut through with canals. The woods had rattlers and coral snakes, the canals had cottonmouths and alligators. One afternoon while horseplaying in a canoe, we capsized it. Making our way to the shore, we encountered a small earthen berm. Out of a hole near the waterline, a dozen or so wee baby gators hissed and frolicked. You’ve never seen two young boys right a canoe and paddle away from the area that fast.
Yikes….can’t say I regret avoiding gators as a youngster.
Was that the Summer of Drugs?
https://youtu.be/HwuSZAwUysM
Nice.
I met my first wood chuck about the same age, he/she was living in a slab pile. I got so excited I shot 4 times, as I remember, just to make sure. I too brought it home for my mom/dad, maybe the only one we ever ate, to the best of my knowledge. I didn’t know what it was but it was the first big animal I’d ever slain. Your story took me back, Animal, thanks for the trip.
Great, great writing, Animal. Your knowledge of the woods is well-served by your knowledge of the language.
And a Bruschetta sighting! (I’ve been away, so this is on me).
Thanks for an enjoyable read.
OZY!!!!! You’re back!!!!
Welcome back.
Welcome back. Have you received your Pulitzer yet?
He hasn’t written pablum covering for communists yet.
Bah, just subtitle the book “A searing indictment of Trump and Trumpism,” and it’ll win piles of awards. No need to change anything in the book, the critics don’t read them anyway.
Welcome back Ozy!
Ozy!!
Great to hear from you Ozy!
Ozy! How are ya!
Welcome back! You’ve been missed.
Where you been, Lad? Don’t answer if it might be an embarrassment.
Good to know the CV didn’t get you.
Where the fuck have you been?!?
I almost emailed you, but I didn’t want you to think we are that fucking needy.
I like this story.
<—
We should arm more 9 year olds.
Indeed.
I like it.
I saw a youtube video once that had 3 or 4 kids (probably aged 9-13) setting up a water-cooled heavy machine gun and firing it.
They did just fine.
What model machine gun? A good design needs to be operable by whatever poor schlub the press gangs conscripted off the streets.
No idea.
It’s been awhile since I watched the video, and I don’t have it bookmarked.
Party Of Progress Votes In 298-Year-Old Speaker
Biden Promises Nationwide Mask Mandate And Womandate
Guffaw. Especially the second one.
This is why my wife and I have started our 5-10 year plan. I grew up on farms in the summer out in Meridian, ID and she in Kentucky. Since, we have lived the city life so our kids didn’t get to do the romping around like we wanted. We want to move out to some woody area with a creek nearby so our grandkids can get lost and do all the deviant things kids should do.
Great story Animal.
OT, but heartwarming. Man finds the ’69 Camaro that was stolen from him in 2003.
https://youtu.be/z4KsJJ-fiBw
Being somewhat distracted, I first read that as “Man finds the Camero that was stolen from in in 1969.”
Well, cable company came out measure for running fiber to the house. Unfortunately, it’s a mom and pop taken over by a “oh, broadband is so easy to do and we can do it much cheaper” public benefit company. Ask details and the public facing people say they don’t know (or are flat out wrong). No, the reason why I’d rather do some parts of the installation myself isn’t due to cost but because you guys do shitty install work, use the wrong materials, and post pictures as success stories. Also I’m a control freak.
He in suburban NJ you get what they will give you.
I have the rare privilege to have a choice of either cable or fiber. Most here only have one or the other. And our customer experience with the cable company has been awful – I’ll pay more for fiber aside from the quality of service.
DSL has been stagnant in my area.. 3Mbits is all you are getting Dr Lawn. That VDSL DSLAM 1000m from your house?… that isn’t going to serve you.
Cable?… yes Dr Lawn, that will be $3000 to run the cable 1200′ down your driveway… oh you wanted the final run buried just like the other services?.. $4000.
I switched to fixed LTE, and a directional yagi antenna. It is now a race to see if the router provider will release a 5G card first, or starlink will extend their beta down to 41N.
$4k for 1200 ft isn’t too bad… I’ll be happy if it’s sub $10/ft to bury the drop. Cellular coverage is spotty to no service at my house and no line of sight for satellite or a local WISP.
The $3000 was all aerial. the extra $1000 was only to bury the last 40′. I was able to get 10-20Mbits of cellular with the small antennas… then 30-50mbits with the directional antennas. Once that was shown to be stable I canceled the DSL.
I also thought of rolling my own WISP, where I would buy commercial cable for the house at the end of my driveway, and then link all three of our houses with a UBNT point to point system. I could make it line of sight, or relay off of the other house that shares the driveway.
I ran a backup UBNT Airmax dish at a friend’s to connect to the neighbor’s Cable/WIFI, and then bond both the DSL and Cable connections for throughput and stability.
DSL or cable is the choice here, with extremely low speeds for both. And those are relatively recent. I’m still in somewhat of a shock that they’re doing fiber now.
We’re on cable. With the new modem, we consistently run 200Mbps, which is more than enough to stream video on multiple devices. Which is the heaviest load we put on it.
We had an inconsistent 200Mbps at the last place. During the good times, we could do everything we wanted. During the bad times, conference call plus streaming video was too much.
Meanwhile cheap Sensei runs 60Mbs, but consistent and reliably over fiber.
Three people stream full HD, and do work, school and teleconferences with bandwidth to spare.
The only time I wish I had faster internet is downloading content with Steam. Cable companies play the game of high speeds but noticeable congestion at times.
A surprising amount of NYC infrastructure looks like The Little Rascals installed it.
https://www.alamy.com/a-rats-nest-of-wires-and-cables-for-telephone-internet-and-other-utilities-on-the-exterior-of-an-apartment-building-in-brooklyn-in-new-york-on-saturday-june-1-2019-richard-b-levine-image255491428.html
I’ve seen that too many times to count.
Ahhh. The blissfully unaware of their own shoddy work.
The sad thing is there are lots of small operators of various stripes out there and love to share their knowledge along with the vendors pushing white papers and case studies.
Attempt #6 at getting this medical bill fixed. Wish me luck!
Good luck brah.
The worst job I ever had was in a call center for pharmacy billing, fielding calls from people who are (justifiably) pissed off about idiotic company policies and government regulations that I have no control over.
The third party payer system really makes things a fucking mess.
This one has gone better than in the past. They actually wanted to see the info from the insurance company this time. We’ll see if it actually gets resolved this time or not.
And keep in mind you’re an attorney.
For people that understand neither the law or insurance and the insurance claims process – good luck.
What a busted system.
They have zero incentive to cooperate with me. I’m not their customer. I can’t take my business elsewhere. They have my HSA card number. They can (and have) literally just lift the money out of the account and leave me scrambling to figure things out. Oh wait, joke’s on them, the HSA is empty!
I can’t imagine that people who aren’t used to reading detailed documents closely would be able to even identify the problem, let alone communicate the problem effectively. It took me twice to find the right combination of words to get the person to look at the right field in their system.
“They have zero incentive to cooperate with me. I’m not their customer.”
THAT is the whole problem right there. Take the insurance and medical finance out of it. Then you are the customer. A customer that can shop elsewhere.
Insurance really needs to work like auto or home insurance. I realize emergency circumstances are different, but most health care isn’t emergency. The insurance has an amount they pay up to X and I shop around to found where to get X done. Pay for it, send the insurance company the bill and let them refund me.
When I was in Kentucky, my insurance was through BCBS of Alabama. Because of insurance being covered under my severance package, I stayed with it under COBRA thru the end of 2019. In 2020, my new insurance is through BCBS of New Jersey (Horizon). When a claim gets filed, it is sent to BCBS of South Carolina (because this is where I live) who, 9 times out of 10, process it and forward it on to…Alabama.
Alabama doesn’t reject it, because I think I still have the right to Cobra or something, so they instead just say it isnt covered, and the Doctor sends me a bill for the full amount. Then we have to fight to get it reprocessed properly. Once it gets to NJ, it gets handled correctly. Mostly.
My wife handles it, but it is frustrating just hearing about, much less trying to correct. As of the end of 2020, there is only one outstanding screwed up bill. That is the lowest point we have been in a while.
Ugh. I received a bill last week for $5 for a procedure I had over a year ago. I already paid my share and they received > $10k from insurance. The practice will not not let me pay by credit card online or over the phone. I guess I could mail a check but it’s just a pain in the ass. They couldn’t write off 5 bucks at a year later? Or include in my first bill?
That still doesn’t beat the bill I received from a practice for an office visit 3 years later. The office never submitted the claim and the insurance company would not consider it 3 years later. I had paid my copay in cash. The bill was for the full amount without any insurance discount and they demanded I produce a receipt for the copay (for which I paid cash 3 years earlier). I lost my patience on the phone and said some truly vulgar things to the billing person when she insisted that I produce the receipt or pay up. They rescinded the bill at some point without notifying me.
That is awful. I don’t know how you couldn’t loose your cool in that situation. The latest i got a bill from a doc was a year after getting a mole removed. They had lost my referral that and so my insurance threw a fit about paying because i didn’t have a referral.
Me in this situation: Send it to collections. I’ll get it right with them. I’ve done this a dozen times, my credit is still fine. I started with Sprint mobile, and have done it with dentists and docs. I get that you’re a small business, but your recourse when we don’t agree on the bill is:
1. Take me to small claims court — I’ll show up and fight it
2. Send it to a collections agency. I’ll discuss with them whether or not its worth my while to pay. YOU will only get what collections buys the debt from you for.
Send them a roll of dimes.
I remember fishing with my grandfather which started out with hunting for grasshoppers. “Jeez, Gramps. Can’t we just use salmon eggs like everyone else?”
I’m not a snowmobiler, but the ditch riding is extremely popular around here.
Good story, Animal. I’ve caught a lot of trout on hopper pattern flies.
OT AF: This morning I watched a documentary the early ots on HP Lovecraft. One of the interviewees feeling like he needed to denounce Lovecraft’s xenophobia early in the doc later goes into how it’s not the same as now, with all the Islamo-fascists, who we should be xenophobic about. My how political correctness has
grownexpandedmaligned.Can a rational reaction also be a phobia?
I’m pretty sure that’s what Pupaphobia is.
I saw one on the YT that was filmed in the before time, and nothing about his Xenophobia, just his strangeness,
@Moj, sorry for not responding on the other thread, was in a long work meeting. The process for transfering your coins off of coinbase is very simple.
1. Get a digital wallet that you like. Choose your wallet has a list that you can peruse for your enjoyment. I like https://electroncash.org/, but it is specifically for Bitcoin Cash, not bitcoin.
2. Install the digital wallet software on your personal machine, and create a new wallet. This will generate a 12 word recovery key that is highly recommended you write on paper and store in a safe and secret location.
3. Make a transaction, like you are buying something, from your Coinbase account to your new wallet. The Wallet on your machine will have a “Generate new address” function that you can use to send money to.
And now you have your coin, on your own machine, with keys that you control AND a recovery phrase that can be used on any machine anywhere to recover your wallet. So if government meddles with coinbase, your money is safe.
The nice thing with coinbase is, however, that you can hold multiple currencies without having to juggle multiple wallet software.
*opens coinbase for the first time in a while*
Wow! I should’ve invested in bitcoin when it was at $10k last I looked!
Good news is that I’m killing it in crypto. Made a 60% gain! ($6)
Again I must relay that I wanted to get into Bitcoin when it was $18 and it took Mt Gox so long to process my information that it was up to $1,000. By that time, I couldn’t afford to buy any.
But as Jarflax reminds me every time I vent my spleen about that, Mt Gox would have taken my cash anyway, so I dodged a bullet.
The bitcoin ship has sailed, but Yellen will make damn sure it’s a bitcoin Hindenburg and then point to it and say “see, I told you so”.
Yep, I remember taking a glance when bitcoin was around $25. “Nah, I can buy a lot of beer with $200”
I first looked at BitCoin when it was $20. I figured it was a fad, wouldn’t go anywhere. Even if I had bought way back then, there’s no way I wouldn’t have sold long before now.
It was under a $1 when I first started paying attention. I should be a bitcoin billionaire, but I aint.
And my friend who was playing poker hands for .5 btc each was playing bigger stakes than we thought (and that was when it was up about $10 or $20).
I was semi-serious about dropping maybe a thousand bucks on it. If I had, and had left it alone until now, that would be . . . fuck me. Enough to give my notice.
I was semi-serious about mining some back when it was easy to do and actually get big chunks. But I never spent the time to get it going.
Repeat at $20, $100, $500, $1200, $3400, $6400, $10k
*nods sullenly*
So are you a gentleman farmer? if so I have the vehicle for you.
2021 John Deere Gator 825M S4 Review: Everything You Love in a Farm Truck, Only More Expensive
To which my friends who actually earn a living farming would tell me I have more money than common sense. OMG this thing is pricey compared to the usual clapped out farm pickup.
I’d rather work out of a Gator or another utv than a pickup and they won’t tear up off road as much.
My friend loved his Gator, but he bought it second hand for a price that merely made him cry.
*chuckle*
Hunters get the electric Bad Boy instead.
https://badboyatvonline.com/brushless_electric.html
It’s quiet, goes fast, and steers like a brick shithouse.
I really, really, really, really want one of these – https://www.zeromotorcycles.com/fleet/military/
I don’t ride, but yeah, I want one.
That screams 80’S MOVIE
Hey, what was the alternative to Sea Foam that you like?
Star-Tron
Which also sounds like an 80’s movie.
Thanks!
I would be afraid, cars already don’t see motorcycles, this is quiet, which seems bad from a safety point of view.
If I had it, it would see very little use on roads of any kind.
Chapter Two: In which l0b0t breaks another bone
You know who else gave their military Motorcycles?
Ya know, these seem so perfectly suited to having a fryer (beignets), freezer box (ice cream), or fancy Italian espresso machine mounted to it for mobile vending.
https://www.zeromotorcycles.com/fleet/military/
Golan-Globus?
I was 10 when this came out, and it was the coolest thing in the world. I can’t sit through the whole thing today.
https://youtu.be/gJC6mblA9-Q
OT: Someone in the AM Lynx asked if there were rinks open.
It hasn’t been consistently cold enough for ponds to be frozen here, but one of my teammates found an outdoor community rink in Illinois that is giving us free ice time early Sunday mornings. It’s not in Chicago so it’s still open. We’ve been doing full ice scrimmages with 10 skaters. It’s nice. And once you get moving it’s not TOO cold. In the next town over, there’s a little parking area the town floods for skating, but it hasn’t been set up yet.
I am going to check out the local rink tonight. Our stupid fucking cunte of a governor says that the kids can start playing winter sports – in fucking masks. You can’t play hockey in a mask.
I hate the world.
You can’t play hockey in a mask.
Goalies have a sad.
When the Chicago rink was still open, we had to play with masks a few times because one of the higher-ups was visiting and we had to engage in some theater. It was just as terrible as you’d imagine.
Over the summer, I jack-hammered out a 12′ x 12′ slab in my backyard. Plenty of dust, so I was wearing a mask and had to keep getting new ones as the sweat made me feel like I was being fucking waterboarded.
I gave in years ago and bought a full-on, sealed-to-your-face N95 dust mask for that kind of work. Pricier, and worth every effing penny I paid for it. I won’t wear the paper/fibre dustmasks anymore, ’cause they just don’t get the job done.
I spent a lot of time in ditches during my yute. I made money by recycling cans I collected out of the ditches.
The ditch next to my step dad’s farm was used by many people as a dump. I assembled several bikes from that junk pile.
Another time while collecting cans, I saw a whole garbage bag of beer cans in a deep ditch. (My lucky day!) In the culvert next to that bag was someone’s stash of liquor.
Hopefully the hepatitis from sampling that stash wasn’t too bad.
Being dive bombed by red wing black birds was a bike riding hazard where I grew up.
So from above (and earlier) discussion about Plan B and SHTF (and whether political opposition is anything more than temper tantrums).
If the U.S. dollar truly collapses, there’s no civilized place in the world that won’t be affected. The only thing holding the dollar up is that it is the world reserve currency and nothing around now is going to replace that. If we go down hard and long enough, maybe the yuan, but no one really trusts the Chinese, not even themselves [just where is Jack Ma anyway?] so not likely. The Euro would have been the obvious candidate, but now with Brexit and the internal tensions/contradictions only held at bay by a thread, there isn’t enough trust (and stability) there either. There really isn’t a good option, any more than there was one the last time western civilization collapsed.
This is why I don’t spend too much time thinking about monetary/economic collapse when I’m financial planning. There will be so many knock on effects that it’ll be impossible to predict what the world would look like. Gold and silver coins don’t guarantee you jack shit in a mad max dystopia.
Total monetary collapse is the end of the world. I don’t think you can plan for that.
I do expect the underground economy to grow dramatically — avoiding taxes; avoiding regulations; avoiding scrutiny. This is where silver/gold coins will have their value.
Gold and silver coins don’t guarantee you jack shit in a mad max dystopia.
True, but there are many stopping places for currency/economic/social collapse well short of that where they could be useful. If there is truly no economy left other than barter and/or armed robbery, I doubt I’ll last last long anyway.
For me, its not really “financial planning” since I don’t look at my gold and silver as an investment. They are more insurance.
Biggest plus side for precious metals, IMO, is playing a hedge against the looming specter of runaway inflation. I don’t own much silver, but that’s why I own what I own.
I’m sure there are plenty of other ways that metals can be useful in economic crisis, but I prefer to stock up on non-perishables, all else being equal.
Is colloidal silver non-perishable?
?
For me, its not really “financial planning” since I don’t look at my gold and silver as an investment. They are more insurance.
This. Approximately 5% of our total portfolio’s in physical. It’s purely insurance against long-tail risk / Black Swan events and a hedge against inflation. It’s unlikely to do us a lot of good in a Mad Max event.
Ever read The Mandibles?
It’s precisely that – the dollar being replaced as the world currency. Not a pretty scenrio.
Good book, though.
[just where is Jack Ma anyway?]
Visiting Gina Haspel?
Pursuant to the conversation last thread about what to do when even the private schools are a woke mess, I present the most libertarian solution.
I figured that was going to be a link to an orphanage.
I am disappoint.
Orphans make terrible tutors.
A library card and a knife! That’s all kids need to get an education!
“Having fun isn’t hard, when you’ve got a library card!”
Oh sure, but don’t link to Tom Woods special link so that he gets a cut! WHY DO YOU HATE TOM WOODS!?!
I copied and pasted it directly out of his email, so it’s his fault!
I didn’t realize that Tom owns “RonPaulHomeschool.com”
Do they have classes on newsletter writing?
Wife must be cookin’ with onions again. Entirely coincidental with reading the well-wishes here.
Yes, not dead yet, as Ye Olde Python Trope
goesgoeth.Thank you.
Mr. Fourscore – I started a new job shortly before the election – and then left it by day 60. Short story is that it was a bad fit. I’m now back among the job seekers. I’m also trying to finish that book I’ve had inside of me, so… I regret the absence, but I probably also needed a bit of a break from politics and what looks like the slow collapse of the Republic. For my own mental health and hygiene. Arizona has managed to largely ignore most of the pant-shitting going on elsewhere, although a guy I play ice hockey with tested positive last week and some members felt compelled to wear masks while we were changing in the room. Hockey players being hockey players, several of the snarkier members of the team (myself included) chipped in with some great chirps on the obvious idiocy of it all. (During a faceoff, I told the opposing winger that our team was going to change our name to “The COVIDS” and come onto the ice sneezing and coughing. That got some good laughs – and follow-ups – from all within earshot. “Yeah, demand everyone stay 6′ away when you have the puck.” “Does it apply to the refs?” etc.
But… I… I… just can’t quit you! (Glibs)
I also noticed in brief perusal that Q is back and spicing up the comments with his love of the delicacies of the decolletage. So, a tip o’ the cap to you, Q. Hope the little Q isn’t interfering with your sleep – or overnight appreciation of Mrs. Q.
My love to you all and raising a glass ? in everyone’s direction. Maybe I’ll get back on the horse and start writing some content for here again, too. Cheers, Glibbies.
Back at you Ozy. Your book is sitting on my cluttered desk, waiting for me to start it.
It’s in my Amazon wishlist. I tend to buy books in bulk. Probably next tranche of orders.
Cheers!
Cheers, Ozy!
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Sorry about the job situation.
Great to have you back. Good luck with the job search. I was unemployed once, and in a terrible job once, and both times the job search was something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But it is good you’re not trying to force a bad fit.
Well if you go with that name you should have the tag line, “The Covids. Bet you can’t catch us.”
Golf.
Clap.
Well done, sir. I may resurface this version to the team again, with appropriate credit given.
UR doin it rong!
You’re the side that is supposed to loudly proclaim the integrity of the election process.
“We need to win by a comfortable margin because, you know, funny things go on,” Warnock told a crowd at a drive-in rally in Riverdale, Ga., on Monday.
I thought voter/election fraud was a myth?
We
needare going to win by a comfortable margin because, you know, funny things go onSee – THERE is the narrative!
His statement is just as damning as Trumps statements in that phone call — which is they are nothing, but if I were a raging right-winger I would claim its a dog-whistle to the precincts out there to do what you must do…
I love the “Cake and Eat it too” mentality that comes with elections. The 2020 Presidential election was perfectly fair, but you know, this one won’t be if my team looses. Likewise, 2020 was wrought with fraud, but don’t look at all the GOP election wins in the house.
^^^ Give this man some cake!
https://www.fox5vegas.com/coronavirus/los-angeles-mayor-says-virus-spreading-within-households/article_e4714015-8927-54fe-9f87-d34c0d797be9.html?block_id=1002219
“This is a virus that preys off of our weakness, preys off of our exhaustion.” and “…that’s when this virus exploits that weakness and is going far.”
Lil Rona is a sentient being — maybe this is the aliens we have been looking for.
We disappoint him so much, with our weakness and exhaustion.
#finishStrong
What is scary with what he says and with the powers that governors and mayors have been gobbling up is them separating households via quarantine orders.
Ventura County already suggested that back in May and they are now also pushing the same narrative as the LA mayor is saying above.
They are itching to broach that last defense of the family and households.
Then stop exhausting us by putting us under so much stress.
virus that preys
Leftism?
Who knows if you’re standing in a bar rather than sitting? The Covid knows!
Who knows if you’re the 11th person in a gathering, or the 9th, depending on which state you’re in? The Covid knows!
And it knows if you’re on skis, or on a tobogan:
https://www.iheartradio.ca/610cktb/news/yes-you-can-take-kids-tobogganing-during-ontario-s-lockdown-but-no-skiing-1.14252556
It sees you when you’re sleeping
It knows when you’re awake
It knows if you’ve been bad or good,
so mask up for goodness sake!
That’s consistent with the science that COVID spreads among people standing at a bar, but not sitting at a table. You’re standing when you ski, but when you are on a toboggan you are below COVID level.
Damn! I didn’t put that together. I must not FLS.
Clever girl!
Ditches were my play area in the spring when the snow was melting. Clearing ice jams, making dams and digging alternate waterways. I’m kind of surprised I never got hit by a car.
“Everyone should be nine at least once, and able to lay at grasshopper’s eye height in the weeds of a ditch without fear of embarrassment. The wonders of life among the grass blades and weed stems is amazing, and it’s best appreciated at mouse height.”
Perfect prose. Sets the mood.
Agreed. This brought back memories for me of “the gully” – a wash that went through some parks in the small Texas Panhandle town I lived in as a wee Dean. No hunting, but plenty of “exploring”. I recall wading up the wash with my buddies as we made our way through the Vietnamese jungle, keeping a sharp eye out for commies. Or Japanese, we were pretty open-minded about who the bad guys were on any given day. Good times, truly.