The Bright Side Of The Street.

This is a personal rant. Move on if you, well, have a life.

Still here? OK. Since my surgery in May I walk in the evenings. Several miles (about 3.5 now) a night. And I live in one of those 1950's suburbs that decided sidewalks are obsolete, or cause crime or something, so walking and running in these parts is done in the street. Which brings up an interesting human / large-hunk-of-metal-hurtling-at-you dialogue. I know that, technically, pedestrians have the right of way, but even my fat arse has enough self-preservation skills to realize the right-of-way belongs to the distracted teenager in a Honda Civic. When it is still light out, this is all no big deal - you see each other at distance, both move out of the way, and wave politely as you pass (this is, after all, Baton Rouge).

But when it gets dark earlier, as it does nowadays, things get somewhat murkier. Even with my ample volume in light-colored clothes, I am hard to see after dusk. So it is not unusual to have someone flip on their brights for a few seconds to confirm my presence and to see that, yes, I have moved over to the grass side of the curb and out of their way. They will still veer left a bit to politely give a wide berth (this is, after all, Baton Rouge).

Until last night. An oncoming car - with those burn-thru-concrete, even-Ray-Charles-can-see-them, xenon/LED/laser headlights that German and Japanese car-makers love, obviously saw me, flipped on their brights, and then the inconsiderate bastard left them on as he/she/it approached. They only flipped them off once past me. I couldn't see shit. Well yes I could, metaphorically, because when they past I recognized the vehicle and it's occupants. It wasn't a surprise.

Why is this blog-worthy? Because, first, it's my blog and it annoyed me. Second, I want folks to realize those out walking / running at night are blinded when you put your hi-beams on them. It may help you, but we can't see the broken catch basin right in front of us. Please be considerate.

Here endith the rant.

Happy Birthday, Sinker-Yankee!

Enjoy:

Good Bye And Good Luck.

As I learned the hard way this week, nothing is forever. As a consequence, I think it necessary to put Red Stick Rant into a state of suspended animation. Whether this is temporary, semi-permanent, or permanent, only time will tell. The The Grey Man may take over the helm, but he is also in a similar state as me.

As you know, my dear readers, since about January I have let this site languish, sometimes for days or weeks at a time. It is not due to a lack of interest in the political, cultural and theological goings on in the world, but an utter lack of time and focus. Where my focus has been is on my work in a dwindling economy. I don't think I can be blamed for that.

But, in this last week everything changed; and rather suddenly. I find myself, at 52, going from the frying pan into the fire, and having to redouble my efforts to keep up.

I am sure I will be alright, but I do not think it fair of me to pretend this site is active, when clicking here only gets you something you already saw a few days or a week ago. I have more respect for you, dear readers, and your time. For the past four years you have given up of that time to read what I have to say.

And for that, I can not thank you enough. Especially my loyal readers.

The blogosphere will survive without my voice right now; my family and career, however, will not. See the list of blogs over on the right? Well, check 'em out. Some of the best voices out there.

While I will be drawing down, but I am not cashing out. I still intend to be very active in politics in Louisiana - especially this election season - and commenting from time to time on other blogs. I will also be doing an occasional guest post over at The Hayride.

So again, thank you all. I will see you on the flip side.

The Titanic Church (tm).

Now that I've decided to return from one of my occasional, unannounced, self-imposed blogging exiles, I checked in on what's happening over at The Episcopal Church (tm), my D.I.N.O. (Denomination in name only).

It seems the church's Executive Committee and Pope Kate I met recently, and they have some really, really exciting new deck chair arrangements! Nothing about that iceberg, though, or the ship's current 20 degrees down by the bow attitude. Further, they are very annoyed at the folks wanting to abandon ship and trying to steal the lifeboats. Kate and friends are ordering more crew on deck to keep them in their davits. No sense in a panic.

At TEC, it's "Full speed ahead, Comrades!" This ship is unsinkable!

Prediction.

After watching CNN's GOP debate last night, and today's morning-after quarterbacking, let me add in my $0.02:

The GOP's 2012 vice-Presidential nominee was up on that stagiest night in New Hampshire. Unfortunately, the GOP's 2012 Presidential nominee wasn't up there. Who that will be, I don't know. But it wasn't one of those folks.

In The Spirit Of Rep. Anthony Weiner (D-NY), A Shameless Attempt To Get Famous Quick.

By posting a picture of my junk on the Internet:


Someone please tell CNN. I need the traffic.

Background here and here.

A Word From The Management.

RSR would like to welcome it's first "guest author" (hey, that's what Blogger calls 'em -ed.): The Grey Man. He is an insightful sage of formidable intellectual and linguistic skills, and will be a welcome addition to our blogging bullpen.

But be forewarned, dear readers - if you wish to cross keyboards with The Grey Man we at RSR take no responsibility for the result. You will be challenging a man known to palpate cattle (that is, stick his arm up a cow's butt -ed.) while reciting the climactic soliloquy from 'Henry V' from memory. You will be in for the scrap of your intellectual life.

For Anne.

She knows why.

Happy Birthday, Bill.

Still looking good at 447. Don't believe me? Take it away, Kenneth:

Next year in Jerusalem!

A very Happy Passover to our Hebrew friends.

A Word From The Management.

We at RSR always appreciate hearing from our readers, either in the comments or by email. Yes, even the ones who suggest we perform some anatomically difficult exercises with a 2x4. That said, know this: If we are interested in something you have to say enough to post on it, we will either 1) link to it, or 2) post your comments directly.

We DO NOT utilize guest bloggers, nor will we post solicited articles.

So please, please quit asking or sending us your screeds on (fill in the blank) that you are convinced the blogworld must see. If they're that important to the future of this nation/planet/Ron Paul, get your own damn blog. Leave our inbox alone.

Thank you.

The Grapes Of Fake But Accurate.

It appears much of Travels with Charley, fiction writer John Steinbeck's romantic, solo-across-the-country travelogue, wasn't that at all. It was, in fact, a lot of fiction.

Travels with Charley was a book I read young (a gift from my mother) and it is what put the travel bug in me. Because of Steinbeck, I have always been a tad disappointed in my wanderings across the US. The romantic in me hopes to find similar characters and places, yet never I quite seem to have the experience. Now I know why - they don't exist.

UPDATE: I know, I know, if I want to experience characters nowadays I should stop at this store when I travel. Is it really that bad, people? Really?

I Need A Pickup

It has been a particularly miserable day in a particularly miserable week. (Mommas, don't your babies grow up to be architects.) A morale booster, plaese.

There. That's better.

(NOTE: This is the greatest video ever crafted by the hand of man. Which means it is, 1) a very 'guy' video, and 2) NSFW. You have been warned.)

Veri-twaddle?

Amity Shales thinks a Harvard education is more about the bragging rights, and really isn't worth it.

I don't know about that (on the whole, I tend to disagree), but what I do know is this - in the early 90's I had an opportunity to attend the GSD, and turned it down when I they told me the five-figure cost for just a year (the time for a master's degree for someone already licensed). Instead, we decided to start a family and move back to Louisiana. I have never regretted the decision to pass up wearing Crimson, nor do I hold any grudge against my colleagues who went on to the GSD.

Instead, I ended up with the greatest kids in the world. And, to me, that's worth all the alumni 'Veritas' afghans and student loans you could ever give me.

Saturday Morning Palette Cleanser.

(notes on) biology

I tried to do something similar in Coach Bryson's biology class, but that was back in the Stone Age (the Carter Era) - we didn't have high res-digital cameras and video editing software . Back then, we had to flip the notebook pages really fast by hand, so my dream of a best animation Oscar for 'Godzilla vs. Mrs. Petrie' (my English teacher) was never realized.

Hattip: The Borderline Sociopathic Blog for Boys.

A Tale Of Two Newsletters.

Compare and Contrast:

The Episcopal Diocese of Louisiana.

The Episcopal Diocese of South Carolina.

Now, dear readers, see if you can tell which diocese is growing, and which is not? Which diocese is embracing the "doing-a-new-thing" pop theology of the national church, and which is holding to more traditional Christian values (and running afoul of the Committee for the Promotion of Vice and the Prevention of Virtue national church leadership because of it)? Bonus points: There is a connection between the answers to the two questions. See if you can figure out what it is.

PERSONAL NOTE: For those who know me, please know that I will not, alas, be riding in the Krewe of Hermes parade tonight in New Orleans - that's the one mentioned in the Diocese of Louisiana newsletter. Work and personal matters prevent my sorry butt from gracing the back of a horse. Next year...

Indeed.

Now, am I Calvin, or Hobbes? Depends on the day, actually.

Hattip: Visual Consumer and Anne.

Why I Can Never Set Foot In Malawi.

I can't help breaking, um, the law.

Why, Here I Am.

And here's what I was doing in Vegas. I do have other interests besides pissing and moaning about politics and culture, despairing my profession, and highlighting the comic relief that is The Episcopal Church (tm).

Today, This Would Be Blamed On Sarah Palin and Talk Radio.

But back in the day, it was still OK for boys to unabashedly be boys.

When I was a kid (about 11, IIRC), my friend Jackson and I built a mortar using old CO2 cartridges (no less), some black powder we made using a chemistry set he got for Christmas (they even provided us with the recipe in a 'Fun Experiments' booklet), some Black Cat firecrackers, and a copper pipe and pipe cap we found under my parent's house. We fired it several times in the alley behind our houses and, besides some scratches on Mrs. Orr's garage from the impact, no harm came to anyone.

Please note that I still have all my fingers and both eyes, and I have not injured - or threatened - anyone because of their political beliefs or because someone on talk radio ordered me to do so. Further, I gained first-hand practical experience in the disciplines of mechanical engineering, ballistics, chemistry, soldering, and master planning. (The latter refers to us pre-selecting a quickly accessible hiding place when Mrs. Munch came out to see what the hell was going on.)