Do these politicians begging for money realize that their e-mails look and feel exactly like mail fraud?
Unsolicited Solicitations
Meanwhile on the other side of the world…
Perhaps my favorite element of working overnight with folks from India, now that we are all working from home, is the small audio intrusions from my co-workers’ lives: The whispered question from a wife or husband, the joyful noises of children at play, the clank of dishes, the rustle of paper.
I trade the same in turn.
Fresh Ears
I’m reading Nietzsche at the moment, and put on Richard Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra (1896). No. 1 Son, who had not before heard any of it, except the first movement opening 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), walked by and commented, “That’s a little aggressive.”
Parts of, I think, the third movement remind me of the fanfare from the theme for Star Trek (1966).
Let us now praise famous men
Just discarded James Agee’s book 10 pages in. The topic was interesting enough, as were the prefaces, though they were a bit too self-congratulatory and overblown. The book itself? Feh. I suppose some others might like it, but I was repulsed rather than enticed by how he put sentences together.
And while on the topic of famous men, I’ve no idea why either Ezra Pound or Friedrich Nietzsche are famous. Both are full of themselves and how wonderfully right they are, but write like bloggers who are too tired from reading Twitter all day to finish an argument.
Was There Some Kind of Ceremony Today?
Today, I spent my day in front of a computer, in four hours of meetings about meetings, another few writing a script and updating a spreadsheet, and then some more preparing for some planned work that will start in about four hours, so I should sleep. It’s almost like I’m one of the working class.
A good day, overall.
I did hear that there was some fine eyebrow waggling and an excellent poem. Should check up on that.
It Tolls for Thee
Leeway
Many folks have mocked Mr. Trump for his frequent golf outings, on the one hand because he did the same to Mr. Obama, and on the other because they think he should be working more. Golf outings are not the problem; using them to move public funds to his private pockets is.
Now that his term is approaching its official end, many–possibly the same people but I haven’t paid attention–are mocking his published schedule because it’s empty. Personally, I think the recent White House schedule has been a lie through omission, but, again, the mockery has been because Mr. Trump is seen as not working enough.
What is wrong with us that we think every single minute of every single day should be over-scheduled? Why do we think The Office is boring because nothing is done rather than because Michael’s a jerk? Why do we think that the frantic busy-ness of Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing is correct, admirable, and worthy of emulation?
One thing I’ve noticed over the years of not working in the same physical location as everyone else on my team is that teleconferences tend to start late and run over, and yet no one leaves leeway between meetings for technical difficulties or bodily functions, nor ends meetings on schedule. This has only gotten worse as my co-workers have become more and more distant, which added the additional complication of timezones, so now a day of meetings tries to squeeze into the few rare overlapping hours, often including an assumption that work continues around the clock.
When do we allow ourselves, and others, the time to breathe?
Dear Reader
I would not have slept if I had not been up most of the previous week, but I did, willingly, after 242 pages, to prepare for today. The best laid plans, they say, of mice and men—in this case I am borrowing from libraries because mine suffers from a shortage of cash money—but I am sorely tempted to add Terra Ignota to my shelves. Posthaste.
And I shall, just as soon as I finish these three from the library, because there is a fourth and I cannot wait. I have not lusted for an unfinished fiction this much in ages.
Do, dear reader, heed the warnings on the title page.
Prepared?
A former employer spies storm clouds on the horizon and notes
it is worth the exercise to review backups, disaster recovery plans, and operational resiliency.
Yes, it is. There’s a huge difference between recovering and rebuilding, and not simply in terms of lost sleep.
But I’m also reminded of this XKCD classic.
Psalm 62
1 On God alone my soul in stillness waits; ♦
Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church of England, Copyright © The Archbishops’ Council 2000 and published by Church House Publishing.
from him comes my salvation.
2 He alone is my rock and my salvation, ♦
my stronghold, so that I shall never be shaken.
3 How long will all of you assail me to destroy me, ♦
as you would a tottering wall or a leaning fence?
4 They plot only to thrust me down from my place of honour;
lies are their chief delight; ♦
they bless with their mouth, but in their heart they curse.
5 Wait on God alone in stillness, O my soul; ♦
for in him is my hope.
6 He alone is my rock and my salvation, ♦
my stronghold, so that I shall not be shaken.
7 In God is my strength and my glory; ♦
God is my strong rock; in him is my refuge.
8 Put your trust in him always, my people; ♦
pour out your hearts before him, for God is our refuge.
9 The peoples are but a breath,
the whole human race a deceit; ♦
on the scales they are altogether lighter than air.
10 Put no trust in oppression; in robbery take no empty pride; ♦
though wealth increase, set not your heart upon it.
11 God spoke once, and twice have I heard the same, ♦
that power belongs to God.
12 Steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord, ♦
for you repay everyone according to their deeds.
The Wide Wonderful Web
Someone I follow on Twitter shared Elizabeth Kingston’s discovery of sea chanty TikTok and I fell down an audio rabbit hole because TikTok has a handy feature where you can explore all the forks and merges. These spontaneous collaborations and similar wonders, like the distant choir (and cello) videos that have popped up on YouTube as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, are, to my mind, the best of the Internet.
Luke Taylor’s simple addition of his bass to Nathan Evans’ original rendition of The Wellerman reminded me of an event from the before times preserved in the Internet Archive: Shannon Campbell offered one of her songs, “Dreaming of Violets,” to the Internet, Scott Andrew LePera downloaded it and gave it a twiddle. The result, a synergy more than the sum of its parts:
And it reminded me of a small gathering around a fire: a voice rising quietly in song, and one after the other joining in harmony.
Humans are an amazing, creative, gregarious species.
Breadcrumbs
Who recommended 📚The Samurai’s Garden (1994)? I requested the book from the library and started reading it because I had found the Wikipedia page topmost on a tab I had left open, which means at some point I was intrigued by the book and wanted to know more. But I don’t recall how I got there.
This happens more often than not. All these years since the invention of the web and browsers still do not keep a threaded history. Am I the only one who wants this?
Anyway, whoever you were, thank you.
Excuses
It is not at all possible for me to make my bed today.
The Unread
When the pages in the calendar turn, I take some time to revisit the accumulations with which I clutter my days.
It’s not you; it’s me. And time.
Homer Simpson had a drinking bird. I have a cat.
Cooking the Books
It is the Constitutional responsibility of the Census Bureau to count. That does NOT mean build a website then mail a letter and a postcard, or otherwise advertise the census. Beyond this delegation of their responsibility to the populace, is the extraordinary gall of assuming that everyone in the United States is on the Internet. So, sorry, that means actually going out and counting people.
That could take a while. It will cost a lot. That’s OK. We have a large country.
It seems, as a casual observer, as if someone were trying to pinch pennies and reduce labor costs, by only physically going to those addresses on record for which no form was returned, even before COVID-19. It also seems, again only as a casual observer, as if an arbitrary internal deadline for completion, such as the first Monday in October, is a useful means of avoiding counting everyone.
This is often the problem with measuring things. Sometimes the numbers aren’t the ones we want.