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Dust in the Steel Winds. - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Dust in the Steel Winds.

Much of yesterday was focused on DEATH. When the first thing you see at dawncrack is a Facebook notification of a Vegas friend checking himself in "safe," you know it's been a bad night.  Then the pundits all came out from under their rocks and made it worse. "Thoughts and prayers" are all many will offer to remedy over 40 years of deregulation and affirmative expansion of the scope (heh) of a one-sentence amendment to our Constitution. This 2014 piece marks the turning point when the NRA truly became the Nuts Running America we now know them as:

Cut to 1977. Gun-group veterans still call the NRA’s annual meeting that year the “Revolt at Cincinnati.” After the organization’s leadership had decided to move its headquarters to Colorado, signaling a retreat from politics, more than a thousand angry rebels showed up at the annual convention. By four in the morning, the dissenters had voted out the organization’s leadership. Activists from the Second Amendment Foundation and the Citizens Committee for the Right to Keep and Bear Arms pushed their way into power.

"Cincinnati" and "1977" were always a hated combination for Mets fans, but this thinly veiled form of Red-baiting of a different kind led directly to the decades of slaughter we've just become numb to. Only a brief respite at the worst end came when Congress finally passed an assault weapons ban in 1994 after numerous killing sprees- but the ammosexuals forced their minions to agree to a 10-year sunset on the bill, and no serious effort to renew it has ever come up in the 13 years since, more than half of them with Democrats controlling the votes of two if not all three of the voices on that choice.  No, instead we are looking down the barrel of a bill this very week that would lift an even older ban on silencers- shamelessly referred to as the "Hearing Protection Act."

Maybe if we renamed the assault ban as the "Bullet Wound Protection Act," we'd have a better chance of coming to our collective senses.


Yesterday also brought word of the untimely death of Tom Petty. It proved to be REALLY untimely word when it came out that he wasn't quite dead yet. (He is now. We think.) I don't think I ever saw him perform, and the only album I ever owned was TP and the HB's You're Gonna Get It, not among his best, which I won from a college radio station in maybe 1979. But I always respected his writing and musicianship- especially enjoying his turns as a Traveling Wilbury, now down another. Bob Dylan, another of that group I've never seen, will be playing here next month, and it's tempting to add that to the bucket list before the next Wilbury kicks it.


Today dawned better- no bad news on any of those fronts, and a nice drive to a remote court appearance south of Rochester before heading up that way.

These are part of a wind farm on US20A on the road from East Aurora to Warsaw. I've only been down that road once I can remember- taking Emily to a folk concert at Geneseo when she was maybe six- and these were not part of the landscape back then.  I find them comforting in their own way, and certainly prettier than the fracking fields many in that county would likely prefer.

I still need to connect with the kid to switch cars before Eleanor's surgery next week, but we will pick up the wheelchair tomorrow morning and I think we can get it and a driver into one of the Smart cars.  Friday, likely, is when I will now do the car handoff so two people and one chair can drive to and from the surgery place on Monday.  The other surgery I'm awaiting is on this computer; two years of accumulated overuse and cat hair have killed off about a quarter of the alphabet, so this entry has been brought to you courtesy of  the letters E, X, T, E, R, N, A & L;)-


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