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Archive for the ‘Biography’ Category

Sexless escorting is mostly a fantasy of white bourgeois American women which is not found in nature.  –  “More Delightful Conversation

Sex is really a very poor reason for two people to live together.  –  “Silver

The chief danger of a “tolerated” system is that cops or politicians can suddenly and without warning decide to be intolerant.  –  “Legal Is as Legal Does (#1428)

Americans as a group wanted extremely stupid people in charge because they themselves are extremely stupid, and their idea of “democracy” is rule by people like them, ie extremely stupid.  –  “Their Heart’s Desire

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Diary #824

For the past two weeks, the pullets have lived in their nursery in the henhouse; the heat lamp is still on 24 hours a day, and every day about noon or so I top off their food and change their water.  This was taken immediately after doing that, which is why you can hear the water burping as the tray fills up.  The reason it’s up on the cinder block is to keep them from clogging it up with shavings when they scratch; at this stage it’s the feeder which gets clogged instead, but as long as I clean it once a day it isn’t bad enough to stop them from eating.  You can see that the turkey chick has now caught up with the pullets, and by the time they’re out of the nursery completely on May 17th, it will be noticeably larger.  The next change, however, will be this coming Sunday; the heat lamp will go on the timer so it’s only on at night, and in the daytime I’ll open up the coop as it is in this video, then herd them back inside every evening.  Every two days I’ll shorten the timer by half an hour, so their hours of darkness will slowly increase until it’s time to shut off the lamp for the summer, and by that time the hens will have stopped trying to harass them, and we’ll be settled into our routine until it starts to change again in late September.

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Endless Sunday

When I was a schoolgirl, Sundays didn’t really feel like days off.  It wasn’t just that I had to go to church, although that was certainly a factor; it was mostly because there was a school day looming over Sunday afternoon like a beetling cliff above a mountain meadow.  Even if I didn’t have homework due, my mother still enforced an early bedtime on school nights, and even after I escaped the house the knowledge that I would not be free to spend the next day as I pleased was enough to cast a pall over Sunday activities.  And since none of the jobs I had after 1987 had traditional Saturday-Sunday weekends, that inability to feel free of looming responsibilities eventually seeped into every day off, aggravating my lifelong characteristic inability to relax into a lifelong Sunday-shaped pathology: unless I was actually under the influence of a drug, whatever tasks I might have to accomplish were always lurking behind me, impossible to ignore regardless of my efforts to pretend they weren’t there.  But now, five years into my retirement, I’m at last starting to have a little success in convincing myself that there really aren’t any obligations haunting my free time.  Sure, I need to go to town once a week for groceries, and several times a year I need to go into Seattle, and occasionally I have some other responsibility to deal with (beside my daily blog work and household chores, which are never completely done).  But other than that, it matters very little if I choose to spend a few hours reading for pleasure, or occupy my time in some frivolous but interesting pastime, or finish my next book in September rather than July.  And maybe sometime in the next few years, I’ll be able to exorcise that Sunday haunt once and for all.

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Diary #823

As you can see, the chicks are in the nursery now.  And even though the turkey is two weeks younger than the chickens, she’s nearly as big already.  They’ll be confined full-time for two more weeks, then starting on the 19th they’ll be allowed to roam around the chicken yard during the day and only confined at night.  Since they’re faster than the adult hens they can get away from aggressive hens in the daytime, whereas at night the door is closed so they’re cooped up in a small space.  But after being near them for seven weeks, the adults generally lose interest, so I don’t have a pecking problem.  And despite the turkey being younger, her (?) size will soon protect her.

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The search bar replaced the reference desk without replacing the skills behind it.  –  Hana Lee Goldin

When I was in library school in the early ’90s, the internet was very young and largely accessed by libraries, universities, and research corporations via several companies such as Dialog which charged by the minute for access.  Because of this, it was considered important for librarians to learn how to formulate effective Boolean searches which would return roughly half a dozen good, solid articles on the topic.  It was recognized that a search delivering dozens or hundreds of results was a poor one because it would take too much (expensive) time and (professional) effort to sift through all that to find what one was actually looking for.  And I was really good at it; I excelled at crafting “Goldilocks” searches which would return a manageable number of relevant articles, neither too many nor too few, usually on the first try.  Then two things happened: AOL started offering unlimited connection time, and Google came up with its non-Boolean search engine which delighted non-librarians by returning thousands of items in the pretense that more is better.  And so an entire generation of people has grown up with absolutely no idea how to craft an effective search, leaving them helpless in the face of Google’s rapid enshittification, and therefore easy prey for its predatory and typically-wrong chatbot.  As Google has rapidly decayed I’ve tried several other search engines, but none of them are remotely as good as classic Google was.

That’s why I was so excited to discover this article by reference librarian Hana Lee Goldin, explaining not only how to get around Google’s loathsome practice of dishing up swill instead of what you ordered, but also how to use Boolean operators which have apparently always been hidden in the system.  Goldin explains the reason for her article concisely:

Google…constantly…swaps in synonyms, personalizes results based on your history, and decides what you probably meant rather than returning what you typed. Most of the time that interpretation is invisible. These tools are how you override it.

Beyond that, I’m not going to quote her excellent article because you should read it all.  The link above is to her Substack blog, but to head off the possibility of link rot I’ve also backed it up.  And if Hana happens to read this: from a retired reference librarian, thank you!

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Diary #822

As you can see, Axel and Speck are now friends.  I can’t really claim any credit; Speck was the one who made all the overtures and slowly got him used to her presence.  I apologize for this being a poorly-composed picture; that lump under the blanket is my leg, so if I’d tried to get up to catch the shot from a different angle, they might’ve moved.  Alas, Axel has not stopped being aggressive altogether; a few days ago a stray cat came into the atrium and if I hadn’t called him off it would not have been pretty.  But one step at a time; at least he leaves the resident cats alone.  He is now down to 50 mg of trazodone per day, in a single dose at bedtime; that’s a lot lower than what he was on when he arrived in late November, but it’s still quite high considering he’s on a typical human dose despite having only about a quarter of a typical human body mass.  Even so, I’m going to keep weaning him off of it slowly; since I stopped splitting the dose between afternoon and bedtime I’ve noticed he’s a bit more antsy in the afternoons, so just cutting him off would still be a bad idea.  His next reduction will be this coming Sunday, down to 25 mg, so we’ll see how that works out and proceed accordingly.

In chick news, I typically keep them inside for three weeks, so they should’ve gone out into the henhouse nursery on Sunday.  However, the turkey chick is two weeks younger than the others, and the predicted low on Sunday night was -4o C, so I held off on putting them outside until today (it was only a one-night cold snap).  So watch next week for a video of them in the newly-rebuilt nursery, where they’ll spend the next three weeks before I start letting them out in the daytime to mix with the adult hens.

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Teleporting is no fun.  –  Gregg Phillips

It’s difficult for young people nowadays to understand just how badly our culture has backslid into sexual repression during my lifetime.  Here’s an example from the 1978 Broadway musical On the 20th Century in which fairly typical 21st century sexual attitudes are the subject of mainstream mockery.  The links above the video were provided by Nun Ya; Reason; T. Greg Doucette; Jesse Walker and Popehat; Nun Ya again; and T. Greg Doucette again (x2), in that order,

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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There really isn’t an excuse for repeated attempts at social engineering that aren’t even tied to some kind of grift, pork, or fascist collaboration.
–  “In the Dark

Being able to look out a window and see grass and trees and animals…is so much better for my mental and spiritual health then being subjected to a “view” which consists of nothing but concrete, glass, and automobiles.
–  “Diary #664

“Innocence” is merely a fanciful euphemism for “ignorance”.  –  “Tweetenstein

For me, no sorrow is ever experienced in isolation; new tears falling into the pool immediately cause it to overflow, and then it’s impossible to tell how much of my anguish is due to the proximate source of the grief, and how much is old pain which has never been fully resolved.  –  “Pool of Tears

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Diary #821

Yellowbird wanted to try turkeys again, and they came in Friday so Chekhov brought them over.  Unfortunately, by the next day one of them wasn’t doing too well; she seemed uninterested in the food or water even though the other one went right for them.  By Saturday evening she was obviously dying, and before 10 PM she was gone; given that like chickens she was living on her yolk until Thursday, my guess is that she had some disorder that kept her from eating as normal.  The other one has joined the other chicks, and though she’s smaller right now last year’s experience demonstrated that won’t be for very long.  On Sunday I expanded the enclosure, which will give them more room to run around and should help to keep their water from constantly getting fouled; I was lucky enough to catch them in the act in this video, so you can see how the water needs to be cleaned so often at this stage of development.  This coming Sunday they’ll be going out into their nursery in the henhouse; this past Sunday I finished mucking out the floor, bringing in fresh hay, rebuilding the nursery (the old chicken wire had corroded badly in our damp climate), and spreading fresh shavings in there so it will be ready for them this weekend.  So tune in next week at this same time for a look at the new nursery and its quickly-growing occupants!

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Don’t be so careful in time of death.

In the ’50s and early ’60s, it was typical for TV sponsors to feature the show’s characters in commercials which aired during the show.  I’ve been re-watching The Beverly Hillbillies lately, and I was delighted to find this PSA from an episode which first aired in September 1963.  The links above the video were provided by IncarcerNation, Nun Ya (x2), Stephen Lemons, Franklin Harris, Violet Blue, and IncarcerNation again, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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