August 25, 2020

Yesteryear
One year ago today: August 25, 2019, moorage and mortgage.
Five years ago today: August 25, 2015, here is the feed valve.
Nine years ago today: August 25, 2011, soloists in a band.
Random years ago today: August 25, 2016, the live versions suck.

           This was a nothing day, so I put in a nothing report. So later, fi this post becomes a yesteryear, I can compare to other nothing days. This is a rare time when nothing becomes the most outstanding event. My default is to chronologically write what happened, a journal habit that predates this blog by some twenty years. Nothing the news except how badly the liberals blew their convention. They attacked an opponent who simply stood off to one side and let them fly right past. So the boys and I drove out to the Percy Pierce dam for a lengthy morning power walk.

           Sparkie has some new joint pills and he’s got spring back in his step. I left the car running with the A/C on full. There’s a spot in the passenger seat that gets ice cold and he was not long finding it. This trip is different in that there is no down time. Usually after the Reb leaves, things flatten out to a routine. Not this time, and I spent the rest of the morning shopping.
           She’s asked me to tend to the birdhouses, there were two families that used the more unlikely ones. They need cleaning and one was high up on the dead tree. I never got a close look at it until it fell down. I like the design so much, I believe I’ll copy it. This picture shows the concept. And JeePee the turtle has taken to the cage I build last summer. He likes it well enough to bask in the sun all day. That’s the most prolonged outdoor adventures in his time and he plainly loves it. The bottom of the cage is wire also, allowing plants to grow through the mesh. Ah, turtle llfe at the top.
           I got snapped at by a lady at the market. I know the place and when the lineup gets too long, they open another checkout. Well, by now I happen to know which clerk works where. I was around 7th in line when I saw her walking toward the front, so I was already standing at checkout three when the overhead said take the next customer in line. And I don’t care what some crabby lady thinks, already standing there makes me the next customer. End of discussion.

Picture of the day.
Famous brands by State.
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           Recall the peanuts I bought in Georgia? They really are quite good. Enough to get the Reb & I to have regular peanut meetings. Don’t ask me how they know, but each peanut is perfect, not stale or rotten surprises, and the meat is great enough that they are noticeably less salty. This led to a discussion of where peanuts grow. I was right, they do grow underground. I was unaware that some people were unaware of that. Did I say that right? Yep.

           This led to an hour’s extra power walk with the dogs. You know, in all this time we have never seen another couple walking their dogs. If you speak doggie, you know fetch is far more fun with two trained humans. It was so quiet today, I took to reading Rule 107, this is the legal code for how a Judge is supposed to determine when expert testimony is allowed. I learned it was a result of a case in the 1920s where a Judge would not permit polygraph evidence.

           It seems that was the onset of an era when scientific arguments were entering courtrooms, due to the more complex nature of evolving technology and its consequent use in crimes. I know that in my lifetime, most ordinary objects became so complicated that no jury of twelve who understood the workings could possibly be found. We now have a complete generation of Internet addicts who know zilch about how to operate a computer. This isnot an endorsement of expert witnesses.
           You see, to determine if the witness is an expert, the Judge must know the topic and there are too many cases where that’s a flawed presumption. There are still far to many men in jail being proved innocent by DNA testing that was not allowed at their trials. And we’ve all seen the term “expert” applied far too loosely in this age of ivory tower nincompoops who will say anything for money.

ADDENDUM
           A curious incident. This was not my day for checkout lines. I picked up some Bud longnecks at Target, I balked when the clerk went to scan my ID. She said just give me your birthdate. Then she asked why not scan, and I explained that if I allowed that, the information could be used again and again for purposes other than the one-time use for which I presented it. She was genuinely surprised, like I had opened a whole new dimension of thinking for her. It was not busy so she asked more questions for a few minutes.
           She had honestly never thought about the process, she said, as Target had only ever told them it was a security measure. False, I informed her, it was part of a larger profiling and tracking system, and that participation without question was foolhardy. It was like, this is some juicy gossip she must tell the gals on break. She even added that just the other day, somebody had tried to hack one of her accounts.
           I told her that’s the result when you thoughtlessly let chain stores scan your ID.

Last Laugh