- Three new chapters this week in Jake MacGregor’s novel The Advisor. Chapter 19 and 20 on Tuesday. Chapter 21 last night.
- Good news from the lemonade wars. Well, if anything can be considered good news in this business of cops and code authoritah shutting down kids’ front-yard ventures. Can you imagine the kind of person who would — with “official” blessing — go out of his way to yell at little girls for selling lemonade? The mind boggles.
- But then, I suppose we’re supposed to be grateful that the criminal little lemonade pushers weren’t beaten and tasered to death. (NOTE: Heartbreakingly graphic photo. But OMG, read the quote from the murdered man’s father, who used to be a LEO.)
- Okay. After that we can use something light. And this, too.
- This is a very handy little book — and an excellent getter-starter for friends and relatives who may feel daunted by preparedness: The Prepper’s Pocket Guide: 101 Easy Things You Can Do to Ready Your Home for a Disaster
- Eejits. Don’t they realize this will never — and I mean never, ever, ever — even be possible, let alone desirable? How absurd that all this talk of “ending anonymity on the Internet” keeps coming from alleged techfolk. Do they have no clue what an Outlaw wonderland would result if anybody tried this? (Tip o’ hat to D.A.)
- “Hideouts or Sacred Spaces?” Weird in either case: the story of Europe’s mysterious underground chambers.
- Hope they mean it.
- Finally, in the category of stylish Outlawry: Did LulzSec trick police into arresting the wrong guy?
Is “sacret” a new word to mean “secret and sacred”? 😉
Ooops. Thanks, Kent. Fixed that. (If I must make typos it would be nice if they all made a certain sort of sense like that one and my earlier “defiinding.”)
You are creating new words that are very useful. Every writer should be so helpful!
On another note, I just found out my next door neighbor is a big Claire Wolfe fan and he didn’t know you had resumed blogging. So I told him where to find you. Maybe this place could turn into Hardyville, after all.
Well, maybe those girls running that lemonade stand have learned an important lesson…what to expect from government in the future,should they decide to go into business for themselves. Still, the other half of that lesson is that there are people out there willing to help. The internet evolves, like a living thing almost-making it difficult to control. This is a good thing.
With that tunnel being over a thousand years old, I have to wonder if it may be a medieval version of a bomb shelter. Instead of bombs, they may go in the tunnels with supplies, to hide from invaders looking to rob and kill. Kind of like a Priest’s Hole. Or it may be just an attempt at a root cellar.
Ha. “Rogue officers.” As though no less than SIX “rogue” officers (how many does that department have?) didn’t show up in the same place, defying all logic, and beat him to death. Just a “few bad apples.” That happened to magically convene simultaneously to kill his son. No, that’s not what a monopoly on violence does to people. They’re simply just a handful of . . . “rogue” police.
Just to make sure, I looked up rogue. Yep, it fits the cops just right.
1. a dishonest, knavish person; scoundrel.
7. to cheat.
11. no longer obedient, belonging, or accepted and hence not controllable or answerable; deviating, renegade: a rogue cop; a rogue union local.
And the synonyms are:
1. villain, trickster, swindler, cheat, mountebank, quack. See knave.
Now I’m wondering what wouldn’t be a rogue cop?
I agree, the thugs fit the denotative definition of “rogue” perfectly. The problem isn’t the denotative definition, it’s the way people use the word. What they think it means. “Rogue” has the connotation “out of the ordinary.” Dictionary.com has this definition of the word (as applied to animals): “having an abnormally savage or unpredictable disposition.” I hold that such savage behavior is COMPLETELY normal for a cop. It should be fully expected, so it can’t be called “unpredictable.”
As you said, how many cops DON’T fit the denotative definition?
During the first Depression, the one in the 1930’s, the bulls usually just took your money. A few bastards would push you off the train in the dead of night. Now they beat you to death out in the open with camera evidence. No shame, no remorse, and no justice.
Here’s a nostalgic tale of riding the rails in Washington State in the ’30s, when our country was still civilized.