Book Report: Heathcliff At Home by Geo Gately (1985)

Book coverSince it’s football season, the collections of newspaper cartoons comes out for me to browse while watching football so I think like I’m doing something worthwhile with my Sunday afternoon and evenings (the split attention between the cartoons and the football explains why I don’t have a lot of brain cycles to dwell on how nothing is actually worthwhile). In 2009, I read Heathcliff Strikes Again. This year, it’s Heathcliff at Home.

Whereas the two previous collections that I read were single panel episodes for the most part (that is, the daily cartoon), this collection is all multi-panel Sunday installments. The book is in black-and-white, though. It collects cartoons from across the years, though, from as far back as the late 1970s. Still, given that it’s a collection of longer strips in the same amount of space, there’s less thematic repitition in the book than you got with the single panel cartoons. Heathcliff goes after Spike a lot in this book, and Sonja does not make an appearance.

The cartoons are amusing enough, comforting somewhat to someone who grew up with them. But if you’re a big fan of Web comics, it probably ain’t your bag, baby.

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Will They Learn? No.

One of these things is not like the others. Yet.

CEO of Mamtek charged with theft, fraud in Moberly, Mo., case

The CEO of a failed artificial sweetener company was charged Tuesday with theft and securities fraud in Missouri for using bond revenues to avoid foreclosure on his Beverly Hills, Calif., home and for failing to tell the truth about the company’s troubled operations.

The charges announced by Attorney General Chris Koster cap a yearlong investigation into Bruce Cole, who was chairman and CEO of Mamtek U.S.

The company received $39 million in bonds from Moberly, Mo., and authorization for up to $17 million of state incentives to build an artificial sweetener factory in the city which Gov. Jay Nixon said would eventually employ more than 600 people. But construction was halted on the partially complete facility after Mamtek missed a bond payment in August 2011.

Ballpark Village project approved, November groundbreaking planned

The board approved its share of $17 million in state and local tax incentives for the project’s first phase, confirmed John Fougere, director of communications at the Missouri Department of Economic Development. Missouri is expected to contribute about 25 percent of the bonds.

The Cardinals plan to have the first phase of the project complete by opening day 2014. The construction of the first phase of the project is anticipated to create more than 750 construction jobs and more than 430 permanent jobs, Cardinals officials said.

On July 6, the St. Louis Board of Aldermen gave its blessing for the development plan and subsidies for the Ballpark Village project, the $100 million first phase of which is set to begin construction this fall.

The Missouri Downtown Economic Stimulus Authority (MoDESA) voted unanimously on July 5 to approve the $17 million in MoDESA bonds for the project.

Koster sues developers over Cupples 9 cleanup

Missouri’s top lawyer sued a pair of St. Louis developers Friday, saying they squandered $2.4 million worth of state tax credits in the incomplete cleanup of a long-empty downtown building.

Attorney General Chris Koster filed the suit in St. Louis Circuit Court against Kevin McGowan and Nat Walsh over their failed redevelopment of the Cupples 9 building on Spruce St. west of Busch Stadium. He claims that their environmental consultant, in a report in 2010 at the end of the cleanup, stated that all lead paint had been removed. Later tests showed that it had not.

So, will governments learn not to ladle out money on developments? Of course not. The other government leaders were stoopid, and the current government leaders have a far keener eye and better readers of chicken guts.

But I find it encouraging that the St. Louis Post-Dispatch has a piece on another crony capitalist tool, the improvement district: Pennies add up as special taxing districts proliferate.

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Book Report: All Saints Church, Wing by Dr. Richard Gem (2003)

Book cover This book is a little tourist guide to the All Saints Church in Wing, Buckinghamshire, England. I certainly didn’t visit it, and I’m not sure what I would have paid for it, but I doubt it was fifty cents. The booklet is only 20 pages of text and photos, after all.

But this book like so many of the tourist-centric, very localized books I’ve read about locations in Europe (see Orvieto and Bruges from last football season, for example). Each is focused on a single city or location with the attendant pile of photographs and maps. More importantly, and more startlingly to someone who has lived in a city-within-a-city where its lustrous history extends back about a hundred years or now a region whose densely worded histories extend back a couple of hundred years, the history of Europe extends back millenia. In more narrative-driven history books, you tend to lose a little bit of a sense of wonder in the sweeping epochs and the rises and falls of civilizations and monarchies.

But All Saints Wing church extends back to when manor owners tended to take care of the churches on their manors. The church was probably built in the tenth century, as its first mention appears in the will of the manor owner in 966, and its architecture reaches back to the Anglo-Saxon period before the Norman Conquest. The guidebook points out what features survive and how the church was modified in the centuries, including during Henry VIII’s break with the Catholic church and the English Revolution. The various defilements of the historical character of the church are now part of the historical character of the church.

And in the present day, or at least in 2003, All Saints Church was not a historical venue maintained by a foundation or the British equivalent (with the additional U that is so characteristic of the Queen’s English is fouundation).

It is a church. With people attending services there and children’s programs. Just like your church, which is probably about a millennium younger than it.

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Book Report: Personal Computers (Revised Edition) by Charnan and Tom Kazunas (2000)

Book coverYou want to know what Noggle does when he’s desperate to make his annual reading quota, and he’s nowhere near finishing the three different 1400+ page books he’s spending a lot of time on this year? He reads a children’s book.

This is a children’s book circa 2000 that introduces children to the very high-level concepts of computers. What a computer is, how computers were in the 1940s, what a component is, what a peripheral is, what kinds of computers there are, what software is, and so on. Kind of like if you just read the titles of that old Time-Life Books series.

Twelve years later, I guess it’s hard to justify keeping this in a library, since most kids these days are born with an iPhone in their hands, and libraries themselves have whole rooms dedicated to functioning computers rather than books, so children can get hands on experience without the need for a book about them. Still, this book is a book targeted to libraries; I cannot imagine many people picking this up and giving it as a gift, even to children who don’t already have a computer (which brings to mind how I used to pore through the Radio Shack ads in 1980, looking at the pictures of the Tandys for sale, and now I have piles of computers with lots of blinking lights and whirring fans beneath a monitor bigger than my television playing Whiz Kids, and all I want to do is get away from them these days).

It’s a book for libraries, and the local library has discarded it.

Is it worth a read? If you pick it up at the local library book sale with an eye to mockery (although I’m not as wry about it as I would have hoped on that particular bag day), if you need to pad out your reading list, if you’ve got the book, and if you’ve got a football game to watch in between large print definition of mouse and keyboard (it’s the part that looks like a typewriter, which isn’t something someone born in 1994 is going to be familiar with).

On the other hand, this book just might be a good starter book not for children, but for seniors getting in touch with their first computer. It’s short, it’s basic, and it’s larger than normal print. Hmmm. I think Roberta could have used this book.

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Grenade Fishing: You’re Doing It Wrong

You’re not actually supposed to reel in the grenade:

Matt Tucker caught a couple of bass at Fellows Lake this morning — and fished out a live hand grenade as well.

Tucker, a Springfield firefighter, said he was casting a lure near the highway bridge on the east side of the lake, when he hooked a tangle of line on the bottom.

He noticed an old sock near his lure and pulled the odd bit of trash out of the lake.

Inside the sock? A Vietnam-era pineapple hand grenade with the safety pin still intact.

Some people can’t even grenade fish right.

UPDATE: Welcome, Neatorama readers. You might have heard John Farrier call me “novelist Brian J. Noggle” because my comic IT Heist novel John Donnelly’s Gold is available in paperback, for the Kindle for 99 cents, and at the iTunes store for you iPad people.

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There Are No Apostates; Only People Who Have Not Returned To The Faith Yet

E-Books, A Breakup:

I BROKE UP WITH E-BOOKS last year after a flight from Los Angeles to New York. My first-generation Kindle and I had been together for five years, but I knew we’d have to go our separate ways when, an hour into the journey, it completely shut me out.

Although it would be very tempting to be able to search all my books for the thing I want right now, it would also cost a lot. Not just in money, but in other things I value, like the extra insulation.

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Wherein Brian J.’s Memories Appear in the Historical Society’s Newsletter

No, not something I wrote; I wish. Instead, this month’s Missouri Times, the newsletter of the State Historical Society of Missouri (available in PDF form here) has an article on Carrie Francke, a woman in the state Republican Party who ran for a couple of offices and lost, before she died in an auto accident in 1989.

I helped on Ms. Francke’s campaign for Congress in 1984. It was the year we’d moved from Milwaukee into the basement of my oft-mentioned rich (that is, struggling middle class) relations in St. Charles. My uncle was politically active and volunteered for this particular campaign, which is why I found myself canvassing Augusta (I think), knocking on doors to tell people about Ms. Francke. I remember seeing a phone booth that only took a dime in that small town (Augusta, I think), which was something prevalent in the novels I was reading at the time (at age twelve, I was already reading pulp fiction from the 1940s and 1950s) but not so much in the real world (where phones were a quarter).

I thought about clipping the article for my uncle, one of the political lions I’ve referred to over the course of this blog, but he passed away in April. So the story from the historical society, that thing I remembered live, I’ve got no one to share it with except the uncaring Internet via this blog.

Now that I have, I’ll drop the clipped article into the recycling bin.

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Out of My Cups

On Saturday, I looked through the one of the glass-fronted kitchen cabinet doors, and I saw a number of plastic coffee mugs within the cabinet, and I thought Man, I don’t drink out of those. I don’t like the taste of coffee in plastic. Why don’t I get rid of them?

They’ve been with me a long time. I’ve moved most of them at least four times, and most of them date from the middle 1990s. But that is my wont, to keep things if they’re functional things or have some sort of meaning to me. But, man, these are plastic coffee mugs, for crying out loud.

There were four in the cabinet, and I ultimately decided to divest myself of two:

The divested coffee cups

On the left, we have a coffee cup from a coffee shop that was briefly at the Third Street entrance to the Grand Avenue Mall in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I picked that up at a GenCon I attended. As if I needed another memento of the things other than photos of me half naked and painted blue.

On the right, we have a mug that was part of a care package that my mother sent to me during a finals week in college. The package must have come with some candy and other trinkets; the mug itself says Official Mug of the Finals Week Survivor. Which makes it particularly estrange that I am actually parting with it: It is something I received from not only a departed family member, but my mom. I think I’ve drunk coffee from it once or twice, but, as I mentioned, I don’t really like plastic coffee mugs.

So out with these guys.

I’ll keep these guys:

The divested coffee cups

On the left, a large insulated mug with the Marquette Warriors logo on it. My mother bought one for herself and one for me my graduation weekend in 1994. This was my work coffee cup for many years at a number of jobs because its size meant I could take half a pot of coffee to my desk at a time. Maybe the repeated use killed the plastic taste, or maybe it was constructed of better quality plastic, but this one doesn’t bother me when I drink from it. The scent of those years of coffee and those tears of toil linger in it. Mostly the coffee. Not that I have recently, of course, since I work from home when I work. 1993-1994 was the last year that Marquette used the Warrior mascot, so this one is a collector’s item. And a personal relic.

On the right, an insulated Milwaukee Brewers mug from the 20th season in 1989. I don’t remember if I went to the game. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure if I have any memories of this mug at all. I’m not sure how I came to own it. I might have palmed it as I left my father’s house after living there during college. Well, no, that’s not my style. Maybe I went to the game and have repressed it. I did go to a couple of games in that era at Milwaukee County Stadium when the Brew Crew was at the bottom of the American League.

Because these two have sports teams logos on them, I took them from the cabinet and put them on display behind the bar in the basement, along side a couple of Packers cups and my single beer stein. They’re actual personal relics, not drinking vessels. And the preceding two will be donated either to a charity thrift shop or to a church garage sale where they can languish, unbought, on the table with the myriad other coffee cups that one finds, unsold, at these things. But at least it won’t be me who throws them out, ultimately.

But I do consider the scenario where, after civilization has collapsed, I find myself at the edge of a creek having to cup the dirty water with my hands because back in 2012 I was so short-sighted to have disposed of perfectly good drinking vessels. WHAT A FOOL I WAS!

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Contrast with an Economic Headline

The newspaper urges caution:

Isaac won't cure the draught

Urging caution, the headline reminds us that Isaac will not heal the fall of the lake levels. It won’t, in a couple of days, fill the reservoirs and the aquifer. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t even seem to indicate that it’s a step in the right direction, some good news amid a summer of only bad, or anything positive.

In short, it’s the opposite of all the economic headlines one gets, where every encouraging step means we’ve turned the corner into a new Gilded Age. Where a fall in the rate of increasing numbers of people seeking public assistance or unemployment benefits heralds a great recovery, regardless of the fact that the numbers of people unemployed increases.

Strange disparity there.

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Range Report (II)

On Wednesday night, I went to Kohl’s and got the shams. Yea, verily, that does sound like a disease instead of decorative pillows, and it’s just a destructive to one’s manhood. So I went to the shooting range yesterday for the cure.

Actually, my mother-in-law had wanted for a very long time to take a basic handgun course and to practice with the little Smith and Wesson Combat Masterpiece her brother gave her for self-protection a decade ago, and I went along for lunch and for moral support.

We got a 30 minute talk about gun safety and how the revolver works, and then we got a chance to put some rounds down range. Well, seven yards down range. Is that far enough to be “down range”?

The instructor fired three to show how the gun works, and then my M-i-L and I alternated a couple of loads. She fired twelve, and I fired eleven. And I have to say I did pretty well for someone who hasn’t fired a gun in nearly four years:

Target August 30 2012

I put about half of my shots into the 10-ring or the X-ring. I think I like the wheel guns better, at least at the outset here, because you can see the mechanism working and know with better certainty when the bang is coming and you can pause en media res better to make sure you’re still lined up on the target.

Comes a self-defense situation, though, I think I’d still want more bullets.

Now my mother-in-law has expressed interest in taking a concealed carry class, and it’s entirely possible I’ll be along for moral support again. We’re a mutual excuse society in that.

So it was a good time, and almost enough to make one forget that one knows the difference between American and Euro shams. Although, in my defense, I have a beautiful wife who wanted the shams.

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Book Report: You Can Tell You’re A Midwesterner When…. by Dale Grooms (2001)

Book coverThis book is a collection of 90 pages of 2-3 quips per page filling out the set-up You can tell you’re a Midwesterner when….. They’re almost akin to Jeff Foxworthy’s redneck series, but a little less absolutely funny. They skew a little northern Midwest than Missouri, and they’re about small town living more than big city quips. A couple of them ring true, with a deeper understanding and statement of small town America than others.

An amusing, short read that I browsed while watching the preseason football game. I’d better stock up on these sorts of things and coloring books, since this in only the 55th book I’ve read this year and will have to make tracks if I want to get close to 100.

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Republic, Missouri, Opts Not To Curtail Citizen Freedom

The city of Republic, Missouri, which has considered whether to mandate a trash collection service for its citizens instead of allowing residents to choose a trash hauler, has decided not to take that small bit of liberty after all:

A years long trash debate in the city of Republic created a stinky situation. City Council met Monday night to decide if the city should take over trash operations and sign business over to one company. Currently, it’s up to individuals to hire trash haulers. In a 2-6 decision, council silenced the situation and killed the measure.

The citizens’ freedom to choose overcame the government’s self-interest arguments (save money on the road wear) and the government’s benefits for citizens arguments (it would give the citizens a lower rate).

So a small victory for limited government this week in a small town in southwest Missouri. Maybe that explains why it’s so hard to find news coverage of it.

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Cheyenne Is Okay

Last night, on our way home from dinner and some shopping (where my beautiful wife somehow walked out of a Kohls with several articles of clothing, two high-end pillows, and a king sized 8-piece bed set for twelve cents that she happened to have in her wallet), we saw a fire truck turning off of our road. Uh oh, I thought. They don’t tend to just cruise the neighborhood, and when my wife pointed out it was a Nixa fire truck, it meant something bad.

But not mortally bad as it turns out.

Fire crews were called out to a hay bale fire in the 4400 block of S. Farm Road 115 Wednesday afternoon.

. . . .

A horse trailer was also caught in the fire, but no animals or firefighters were injured.

It was Cheyenne‘s barn, if you’re keeping track.

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Wither the Live Bloggers?

So the Republican National Convention has started up, not so much that one would notice from the live blogging going on.

Vodkapundit? Nothing.

Ace? Open threads, not Blog It Live action.

Instapundit? No notices of other bloggers live blogging it.

I see a lot of open threads on my usual haunts, but no live blogging.

What could account for this?

Has the medium grown up? Have the bloggers grown up? Or is it that the people who would usually treat the elections as a spectator sport deserving of traffic-driving instant commentary think that this election is vitally important and are out there working on the election?

If that’s the case, it bodes ill for the forces of complacency and stay-at-home-on-November-26.

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Brian J.’s Children Are In School: A Dramatic Re-Creation

My children are back in school, including my youngest, who has begun a full-time Pre-Kindergarten program this year. For the first time in many years, I run errands without toddlers toddling behind me, without having to keep my head on a swivel to watch for malfeasance or just childfeasance. I can’t help myself, though, continuing to chant things like, “C’mon, laddies,” or “Stretch ’em, short legs,” as I’m moving through the store.

Even though there’s no one trailing me.

Suddenly, I am Exidor.

I used to be Mork, but now, with the inclusion of giving navigational instructions to people who aren’t there, I’ve elevated to a new plane.

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The Stages of Aging on the Internet

The stages of Internet Aging:

  1. You’re young, and you read the hip sites like Fark and watch the Internet memes as they emerge.
     
  2. You’re middle-aged, and you see Internet memes going on all around you and recognize them as memes, but you have to read Know Your Meme to understand the source. When you reach this age, you often refer to formerly hip sites as “hip,” not knowing whether they’re still hip or not because you don’t visit them any more.
     
  3. You damn kids, get offa my blog!

I’m, thankfully, only middle-aged in Internet years (I had to visit KYM yesterday to try to glean the reasoning or source behind ERMAHGERD, and I couldn’t find any sense in it), although my blog’s traffic numbers might indicate I’d reached level 3 and succeeded.

Also, note that I have owned the domain names whatyourkidsnow.com from a time when I was in stage 1 and thought we’d start something like a KYM site for parents to understand their damn kids. None of the above stages say anything about not being lazy.

UPDATE: See also the stages of aging in celebrity news appreciation courtesy Tam K.

Also, note the tipping point in one’s music appreciation as demonstrated by the content of one’s musical library. At some point, and not some point when one’s body sags anywhere, that one will discover that more of the artists in his or her musical library are dead, many of old age and not drug overdoses or suicide at 28, than are alive. I’ve passed that tipping point already.

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