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Month: August 2017

I hate it when that happens

Been dry and warm. I’ve been working on the outside of the house (north wall, exterior of screen porch; I’d have pix except for my camera having died and the phone cameras being a PITA). But yesterday was misty. Enough that the “mist” dripped from the eaves all morning. So I slipped under the cover of the screen porch and returned to shingling the wall between porch and bedroom. A small fear I’ve been nursing soon proved true: I’m going to run out of shingles on the last row. On the very last freakin’ row. I hate it when that…


If you tried to reach Claire’s Cabal this morning …

… you may have gotten a “security error” message. I apologize. I renewed our hosting service last week, but apparently our security certificate didn’t renew along with it. The certificate expired this morning without notice. I placed new “Let’s Encrypt” certificates on both the Cabal and the blog immediately. Now I just have to figure out why I never got notification and how to prevent that from happening again. But all should be well for now and Claire’s Cabal is as secure as it ever was. (The Cabal is also taking applications for new memberships — now at no cost,…

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Wednesday links

  • King County (Seattle area) cop confronts a motorcyclist, gun in hand, irrationally and profanely accusing the guy of “going 100 miles per hour.” Fortunately, his intended victim was wearing a helmet cam.
  • Californians may get the chance to decriminalize psilocybin next year.
  • And HERB, a site that hopes to become the go-to spot for “all things cannabis-related” just raised $4 million plus from some very respectable sources. 15 Comments
  • Gene editing humor and song

    I happened to be exploring the wonderful world of one-man barbershop quartet singing the other day. Don’t ask me why; I have no idea.* But that led me (and it was a surprisingly short leap) to science-related a capella singing. I knew the latter existed. I didn’t know there was so much of it these days. One of my faves was this “Mr. Sandman” parody about gene editing, “CRISPR-Cas9.” It’s actually quite educational. With subtitles to help with unconfusication. Then I turned around and discovered that The Onion has done a funny on the very same subject. So I guess…


    Houston, you have a problem.

    … as of course you already know about 1,000 times better than I do. I just had to use that headline. Is there anybody reading this blog who’s in a position to comment accurately on what’s happening there? According to media reports, local officials first told Houston residents to STAY PUT. Now they’re ordering evacuations, but … Texas Gov. Greg Abbott told Houston residents that even in the absence of an official evacuation order, “you need to strongly consider evacuating.” But there was immediate pushback from Houston officials, who said they knew better. Harris County’s emergency management spokesperson, Francisco Sanchez,…


    Sunday-Monday links

  • It’s truly a disgrace that cops did nothing about this. But then, what would the cops themselves would have done if somebody pointed a flame-thrower at them? Since they can’t even bear to have a cell phone or a gun-shaped finger pointed in their direction …
  • Don’t ever take your long and healthy life for granted.
  • $208 million in tax breaks to create 50 jobs. Geez, why don’t they just pay 50 lucky people $4 million each and forget about the alleged job creation? 10 Comments
  • The party place

    That’s an Indian burial tree, so yesterday’s host told me. I wasn’t able to find out a lot about it, though it resembles Indian marker trees, but with the bend higher up, and I know some tribes did “bury” their dead in trees or on scaffolds. Anyhow, there were quite a few of these around the barbecue pavilion at the house where the cannon shoot took place. All cedars. An archaeologist told my hosts the trees were only about 250 years old and therefore had probably been prepared for burials but never actually used. Somehow that made it slightly less…


    I’d rather be hammering nails

    … into the side of my head. Okay, I exaggerate Not into my head, but certainly into my house. There’s painting to do! Dirt to dig! Trim to trim! Instead, on this fine late-summer day (the kind of day that reminds you to savor every moment because there won’t be many more), I’m headed off to — ugh — socialize. Yes, I’m leaden with dread because (oh, I’m sure you’ll pity me so), I’ve been invited to spend my afternoon hanging out with a bunch of local artists and their friends at a gathering whose main purpose seems to be…