Taking on the KKK: video

Vanquishing Ignance

gripping!

Snake in the pants

a cautionary look

Nothing to get agog about

http://www.secularhumanism.org/index.php?section=library&page=haught_29_5

And while were making so much sense (and rhyming)

My dog is definitely smarter than your toddler (and will cost me less than a quarter of a million!)

Slate's Top 5 'Ways America will end'. Four of five; I think this is something I'm good at...(the full list)

Looking on the bright side: we're just pubescent!

Challenging the way we eat...Further: personal responsibility

Ripping one Funny!

Way neat: Someone Once Told Me

Winter's cold embrace, and then some

Shuckles, it's July already. Nobody told me. July in Wellington means the settling in of cold and wet. D'ya like 35 to 55 farenheit? Cause that's it, day after day.
Fortunately I've arranged for a couple of amazing techno-fixes to be again employed to aleve these realities. Satellite feeds of warm France and its Tour de, and my bicycle trainer. I can 'pop' up at 5am, spin to a much easier version of a stage then the boys in France, and simply unhitch the bike and ride it into work each day. Who needs yoga?
And even more enjoyable is increasing my intake of almost anything I wish to intake. Which lately has been tea and ginger. Swine flu!
Yes, the city of Wellington is particularly hard hit by the flu. I've had every warning (and certainly given it right back) having been made Health and Safety coordinator and unofficial swine flu mascot for MAF Policy in the last two months. Every seminar, meeting and training had been attended earnestly by me. I'd learned as much as anyone in New Zealand what to expect. I'd raised awareness and spoken to the whole of them over the period. About three weeks ago, people began quietly disappearing from the halls (most numerously from our floor, which we share with the International team) at an increasing and somewhat nebulous flow. During that time the Ministry of Health switched from a prevention and quarantine posture to one of Management. Which I learned meant acknowledging the breadth of the pandemic, and looking at a period of 12 to 18 months to be hosting it.
So it should have come as no surprise when I got it. The remnants of denial are still within, even as I continue to be exhausted by it. Based on the fact that Wellington is almost exclusively H1N1 effected, as well as my having had a flu shot a couple of months ago (my first) I can deduct that what is in me is swine! What's odd is that I've been almost completely without chest trouble, or some of the other popular traits. What I have had is sudden onset of aches and sore throat, followed soon enough by fever, headache and wracking body soreness.
The last two days I expected to return to work, only to have felt 'touched' enough by deep fatigue and sleepiness to stay in bed. Tonight I see NZ's totals are 9 dead and near to 2000 confirmed cases, though there are sure to be more than that quietly enduring. As strange and interesting as this virus is, it'll be quite a while before we're done with it. Of that I'm sure.

Vive Le Tour!
J

Mike Higgins for the People!

I wish I had a vote in Farmington, New Mexico. Just this once.

Thanks Mike, once more. I needed a gentle jostle. Life's been a bit akimbo and harsh lately. Some of take a while to learn, I suppose.
Of course, it's summer here. Which means 65-75 farenheit with wind (nearly always) sun (a fair chance) and rain (wait, here it comes). And culture's a-flowing by fest and so forth.
Most significantly, I meet the first family visitor to the underside of this sweet planet. My brother Sean and his girl Eva will make the journey this week. Spending about 5 days in Wellington before zooming off to the south island glaciers next week. There'll be cycling and sauvignon blanc, fotos and feasting.

So, I've heard a little about this public office thing. Can you fill me in when you have the chance, Mike?

I haven't heard from you.....

Of course, that's because I haven't checked your blog. I only was reminded today because I have started a new blog for the purpose of contacting those who wish to communicate with me in my capacity as a Trustee for the San Juan College Board. I decided to be a candidate when our local district member resigned his expiring term early so that a replacement could be installed during the last board meeting of the year. He has now been an incumbent for about ½ hour, but the hope was since without any publicity there wouldn't likely be anyone else running, and with no one else running, the incumbent would be a "shoe-in". I decided that I needed to be a spoiler. Here I am, and with a small and short campaign (the election is on March 3rd) I have a very good chance to win. I'm not sure how many other volunteer jobs I'll need to quit in order to serve well, but I am looking forward to winning. My blog is Mike Higgins for the People.
I've heard a little from Tom, and, of course, I talked shortly with you in August when I was in Denver when you called. You sounded good then , and it sounded like you were working toward some goals, and on your way well.
I'll try to check in to the blog more often..
mike

Avenues of interest

Retrospective: 43 Appointees; Bush the worst Prez ever?

A Look back: Onion Headlines (brilliant!)

Wingsuit base jumping!

Happy New Year! Behold the Beast: Draw back the curtain on the worst of 2008
An excerpt from # 43: You think it’s your patriotic duty to spend money you don’t have on crap you don’t need. You think Tim Russert was a great journalist. You are shallow, inconsiderate, afraid, brand-conscious, sedentary, and totally self-obsessed. You are American.
Exhibit A: You’re more upset by Miley Cyrus’s glamour shots than the fact that you are a grown adult who is upset about Miley Cyrus.

Cognitive Biases (Is the only reason this hasn't been edited off wikipedia because no one can be bothered to care?)
Times are tough. Ford Tough!Pictures!
Riding around in circles at 200mph was always the answer....

Honey Laundering: not as sweet as it sounds (from the excellent series by the Seattle PI--soon to be RIP?)

Fun Blog: Stuff Journalists Like

Continuing our exploration of a (still somehow) fascinating world: worm gruntin!

Banks Peninsula

This was October on the Banks Peninsula near Christchurch. A long weekend of hikes, wine, and a great boat ride given by the proprietor of the French Bay Backpacker (a wonderful place). And I piloted a Smartcar!
In November I visited Nelson, a favorite city I'd not seen in 4 years. Even warmer, there were more wonderful meals, riding walking and a Beer Fete! No pics however.

Upon return from the states, good things began to happen. Namely winters grip was broken, most of all. The first signs were gained on the Ministry's field trip and induction in the 'city' of Gisborne. Around 25 of us toured the forests, farms and such getting dirty and hearing all about our stakeholders in that part of the nation. Here we are meeting some, including a truffle hound! Those are special oaks in whose root systems the shrooms thrive. He did too, after failing as a Biosecurity dog, he does fantastically here.

While I'm basking in the mems and fotos of the summer\winter (JULY!), I want to post two of my favorite young sons. From Colorado, Landon and Cormac.

9000+ miles: It's just stuff

In July on a very hot afternoon, my good friend Beaner and I loaded all our things in Colorado.

Then in October, in a gale morning storm it disgorged its precious cargo (made moreso, and less) in Wellington.

A box of stuff.

Does Natural-Gas Drilling Endanger Water Supplies?

What motivates the breeders? I've long wondered...

Relatedly ('Stop Making Sense!')

Climate Change Excerpt: In his fascinating book Carbon Detox, George Marshall argues that people are not persuaded by information. Our views are formed by the views of the people with whom we mix. Of the narratives that might penetrate these circles, we are more likely to listen to those that offer us some reward. A story that tells us that the world is cooking and that we'll have to make sacrifices for the sake of future generations is less likely to be accepted than the more rewarding idea that climate change is a conspiracy hatched by scheming governments and venal scientists, and that strong, independent-minded people should unite to defend their freedoms.

He proposes that instead of arguing for sacrifice, environmentalists should show where the rewards might lie: that understanding what the science is saying and planning accordingly is the smart thing to do, which will protect your interests more effectively than flinging abuse at scientists. We should emphasise the old-fashioned virtues of uniting in the face of a crisis, of resourcefulness and community action. Projects like the transition towns network and proposals for a green new deal tell a story which people are more willing to hear.

Talking Thresholds

The 20 Healthiest Foods for Under $1

End in '010?!?!

Car Review?

(a big blog) Sigh

Looking back at the beach before the wave overtakes you

What to do?

and why (favorite blog of late)

More neat bugs: (beginning to think laying low was it all along)

Mini mag

Today I had splendid chocolate cake by the sea at the foot of the cliffs that face the South island. Many miles away, the peaks were laden with abundant snow. The sun shone bright, attempts toward spring are being made. Soon the seals will return, hauling their frames out of the waves where orcas fear to tread. Good times....

Ford: Like the worst uncle in the world. Always late, on the dole, living on the past, and gives his best somewhere else. Ford Tough!

Is nothing pure? No safety in this illusion either....

Great Journeys all together on a map

Conspiracy spoiler: chemtrails. One of the better write-ups on the subject

Gasp! Got air?

What a story: PapaJack Weil, Denver icon

This one goes back 120 generations

Mega edition

Six ways from sunday

As if two decades of watching 'COPS' weren't enough:

What is GEOS?
I dunno, but maybe my Arvada friends Bean and Tom, will.

Don't Look up: Canada

Dandelion rubber?

Snips from this nyt article on hurricanes in Florida:

A dangerous level of complacency

For many, though, the message has yet to register.

“My concern is that they will get the religion at the very last moment,” he said. “Then they want everybody to help them at the very last moment, a stroke of good luck: “there is hurricane amnesia.”

“It’s human nature,” an overconfidence in the strength of their homes.

Bring it down now: Jumping on Eggs

Nano: Why ask why; it may one day save us from ourselves, and other nonsense

Faith in humanity; bring on the pooting preacher!

From Peak Metals: What the world needs, Mr Hiemstra said, is “breakthrough thinking on every level about everything"

I see the latest in EcoJohns is propane incineration? (Maybe if it heats the outhouse!)
I dunno, why can't we continue to flush 16 gallons of drinking water each time?!?

Time Reckonings

and perhaps other complex astronomical.....stuff

This is amusing (what can afford not to be these days?), yet I dunno ?!?!? Of all the novel, buck-making schemes.....

Another on 'Green Crude'

USNews on Leaving America

Perhaps just in time, as Der Homeland is evermore being secured:
"an increasing number of international travelers have reported that their laptops, cellphones and other digital devices have been taken

The policies cover "any device capable of storing information in digital or analog form," including hard drives, flash drives, cell phones, iPods, pagers, beepers, and video and audio tapes. They also cover "all papers and other written documentation," including books, pamphlets and "written materials commonly referred to as 'pocket trash' or 'pocket litter.' "

Reading, reading, reading

Food: what the heck is in it?
And do we care any more?

En Masse Return

Well, I've meant to tell the horror story of my return flights to the new country for two weeks now. Perhaps the trauma has subsided enough finally that I should do so before I forget any more details.
Things that were good:
Having a couple of days following the load and send-off of the shipping container to 'chill' (being 96 fahrenheit, that's all one could do anyway) with my great friends, the Sheridans.
Relatedly, having all day really before my flight left to figure out the dismantling of the vintage Nishiki roadbike into a box for transfer. With my friends (they're always up for a challenge--they've two boys!).
Flight seating: I must have had some karmic backlog here because despite the circumstances my legs and I fared well.
As I get older I find that saying goodbye never gets easier; though I can count on subtle differences to 'keep it real'. Doing so this time around was harder knowing how much is not known about the trajectory of all of our lives. But there'd have been no goodbye without time spent!
Things that have given me more gray hair:
The baggage folks at Denver United did their best with my freakish load. They were capable, smart, patient and empathetic. They walked the line between cutting me slack and 'toeing the line' of their newly amended baggage rules.
I'd known it would be harder then ever (in our short memory) to buck the system or make good with the goods I was bringing. The bags and cartons were carefully selected for their qualities:
--multiple small bags for transfer\fold-up\strap to one another utility--these became a single carry-on with room to spare.
--A cheap ($5) cardboard carton (well the brand rocked--CAnnondale) reinforced to contain the aforementioned road bike in the cargo hold. Tommie and I worked for over an hour to take off various protruberant sharp bits and fit them in the carton. We did real good!
--A hardcase ordered special by Beth to protect and to carry her smaller(!) keyboard to New Zealand. Stuffed--to the chagrin of Customs I'm sure--with chocolate and other contraband.
--Two quite large, quite heavy checked bags (one a padded backpack, one a huge duffel) on which I'd spent at least two hours shifting the loads that morning in the Sheridans basement. Containing many winter clothes and other useful items. The scale at the counter started out saying 57 and 47 pounds, but in five minutes I was within legality and without penalty. It was stressful but amusing.
We negotiated the business end of things and (tho I knew it was coming) I payed several hundred dollars for the overweight and oversize keyboard in a case to make the flight. I was, of course (whose?) packing for two.

So I was through! It was almost as relieving as signing off on the container! With two hours to kill, I had a couple of microbrews and used the free wi-fi before I went through security (minor search) and caught the flight to LA. Step one down.
We were delayed on the tarmac for nearly an hour and the pilot gave contradicting explanations until we took off. The flight was quick (two hours and some?), and I was glad to have an hour and a half layover there instead of the EIGHT AND A HALF I'd had coming through before. Fatigue was apparently already creeping in, as I was confused by the time zone changeover, factoring in the delay, etc. Never the less, content that I did not have to collect my bags for transfer from domestic to International, I settled into the wi-fi area of THE International terminal where I'd spent the above mentioned day. After double checking the fact that I did not have to collect those checked bags with a concierge.
An hour or so later I sauntered (as much as one might through the JFK-ian tunnel that led to gate D-23, quite a walk actually) to find that it did not exist. Or rather it did, as I'd been assured along the (temporary construction) way, in fact it was the last gate. Except that at the end of the line, there was an escalator down to another level. No signs save the dividing up of 23 to B and C (A was nowhere to be seen). There was no staff at either gate, so I verified that the teens at gate B were catching a flight to Australia. Up and down the escalator to no avail again, and back out through the two security checkpoints in that tunnel asking all the way. Panic now rose, as the flight would leave in 15 minutes and I had no reason to believe that it existed in my vicinity. Authorities did not exist, only TSA 'specialists', all of whom assured me that it was over there somewhere. At this point a half dozen persons had looked at my ticket and could not diagnose where from the flight left. I was sweating.
No longer interested in being so helpless, I went ignored these assurances and pushed back out to the main (Penn Station-esque) hall. Swarming now with travellers to destinations all over Austral-Asia, I had to push my way through brazenly dull stares to get to the door or the terminal. Here, a venerable LA concierge looked at my ticket and said, "Air New Zealand, they leave from terminal 4, way over there"! He pointed around the u-shape to the end. I ran.
I pushed past the passengers dis-gorging from their petro-mobiles and sprinted around the U. I paused, and said 'there's no way', and then I ran on. It was close to a mile when I saw the ANZ signs. I ran into the nearly deserted door and around and through all of the dividers to...another security checkpoint. Sweat now poured off of me, having run through the LA evening dressed for a Southern hemisphere winter. I begged the staff to cut me some slack as we went through the x-rays. Off came the shoes. Beep. Violation. They marked me for search.
As I'd run into this terminal, my name was announced with the warning 'final boarding call'. Now I was soaked through my clothes, belongings spread out on a table, trying to find my passport and tie my shoes while a 20 year old young man went through the duty of asking me why I'd stuffed power bars in my coffee cannister. I beseeched him to free me as they made another announcement. That's me I said, brandishing my passport and noticing the time. He glanced around at his peers, and let me go.
Streaming items stuffed back in my bag, clothes flying I ran headlong for the gate. This terminal was wide and finished, which meant I could juke and cut around people as I went. I now had a feeling simultaneous of despair and great humor, like a cosmic joke was being played on me. On the long mile run outside between terminals, I'd played likelihoods in my mind and determined that I really did not want to spend 24 hours at LAX, miserable and unpaid by work. That is why, when I came around the corner and saw the correct effing gate--I knew they would let me on. Even if they had to ferry me across the tarmac on a baggage truck to a speeding jumbo jet. I was getting on the plane. The staff didn't bat an eye. They radio-ed through to the locked and loaded plane that I'd turned up and I was sped onboard. Fellow passenger did bat an eye at the sweaty, disheveled guy with the half-cocked grin who got on the plane. Especially the two lovebirds I was seated next to--in the emergency aisle.
Fourteen hours later we arrived in Auckland at dawn. We were late, there was weather (winter had truly begun while I was in the States, as it has continued in that globally warming way), and I thought I was meant to collect my checked baggage for Customs. I waited for an hour at the carousel, another half hour at the claim area, and then I ran (yes to another terminal). Through the rain. It was cold--in the forties. Apparently I do clearer thinking at that speed.
Not only did they not have my bags (though only after time spent waiting did I find that they were to have gone on though to Wellington without collecting), but that they were not in the country. No one could tell me where they were.
So I ran to catch my connection to Wellington, because I had to win some battles, right?!?

I missed the plane. Directed to a ticketing desk, I was first made to understand that I would have to pay for another. I begged to differ, and they relented. An hour later I was on the last leg into Wellington.
In Wellington, the howling winds brought it below freezing. The seas had no regard for any of this, and as much as I was able, neither did I.

A new set of challenges had to be dealt with.

Postscript: The bags arrived two and a half days later.

More to read

Bigfoot is everywhere

Higher Learning: Berea College

the Green Boondoggle: 1.0. Hindsight

the Spoils of Patriots

(t)he Americans who built the nation's nuclear weapons are still fighting a cold war.

Tens of thousands of sick nuclear arms workers — have never seen a dime. (snip)
the government has derailed aid to workers by keeping reports secret from them, constantly changing rules and delaying cases until sick workers died.

Many ill workers have become mired in a process so adversarial that top program officials at one point considered putting some of them under government surveillance — spying on them

from the rOCKY mOUNTAIN nEWS