Since I left October ’til the last day, I thought I’d get a jump on November and put something up on day number one. Well, there I go thinkin’ again. But if I didn’t get ‘er done on the first, I’m at least getting something up there in the first week. And just in case you’ve somehow missed the memo, today was the end of Daylight Saving Time. Or yesterday was – depends on how you count I guess. At any rate, don’t forget to set your clocks back an hour and be sure and change the batteries in you vibrators. I’ve read that some states are now looking at staying on DST all year ’round, which would be fine with me. I honestly don’t give a crap if there’s more daylight in the morning – I’d like to to see at least a few minutes of sunshine on my way home from work. Especially as the temperatures turn from cold to frigid. Though if asked to pick between extended DST and legalized pot for NYS, I’m going with pot. Of course, nobody cares what I think.

Speaking of nobody caring what I think, we’re just a couple days away from what id probably the most important election day in my lifetime, if not the history of the United States (not to be overly dramatic or anything). And I have to sadly predict that there will be a great deal of anger, frustration, and deep disappointment (depression, even) come Wednesday morning. From what I’ve read, there appear to be a great many close races around the nation, and that of course means Republicans will win them all, because they cheat. It’s an unfortunate reality that in order for Democrats to win, they need to win by huge margins.

That doesn’t mean you’re absolved from your responsibility to vote, however. Whereas as I generally tend to find Democrats annoying at best (and repugnant at worse – don’t give me the “but the Republicans are worse” shit, either. That goes without saying. Republicans are in a whole other class of loathsome), I usually look to vote for other candidates if it looks safe or at least for a way to vote for Democrats on other lines if possible. Not this year, though. This year I’m voting Democrat straight down the line (which is nowhere near as fun with the SAT-style ballots as it was with the lever machines, when you could flip one switch and knock down the whole row). It’s time to send a message to Republicans, even at the risk of also sending the wrong message to the likes of Andy Cuomo (or Kirsten Gillibrand, who I still haven’t forgiven for her part in chasing Al Franken out of the Senate).

Not that I expect my little vote to make much of a difference, but, hey, you do what you can.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention Syracuse football, even though I know nobody but me gives a shit (not just in this venue, but also at my house). They’re currently having their best season in a lot of years (7-2 at the moment, and ranked #22 or #19 – and they should go even higher when this week’s polls come out. UPDATE: #13 on both polls – highest since 1998, in case you were wondering), and I feel the need to say something before reality sets in and they go on a losing streak to end the season.

So we’ll see what happens with them, and with Election Day. Beyond that, I don’t know. I have real doubts about the future of this country (and the world) if some sort of check (no matter how feeble) isn’t put on Trumpelstiltskin and his ilk. And, more selfishly, my own personal future. I’m having a hard time seeing how I’m going to survive another four years of working until I can retire as it is – if these people take away (or delay) my Social Security, I’m kinda screwed.

So I guess we’ll see how things go. For now, I guess it’s time to go around and set a few dozen clocks to EST.

It occurs to me that I’ve gone the whole month of October without putting up a post, so I figured I’d better get busy. Better late than never, right? Unfortunately, I don’t have a whole lot to say. Except, of course, to be sure and vote next week (or earlier, if you can). I guess that’s about it. Have a safe Halloween, and don’t eat too much candy. I’ll be huddling in the dark, hoping nobody rings the bell. That would just get the dogs all fired up, and we don’t any candy anyway. I guess I could hand out dog cookies. They seem to be pretty good with a little peanut butter on them (though I haven’t tried them myself).

We were all in a state of shock and disbelief 17 years ago, especially when it became clear that the first plane hitting the World Trade Center wasn’t an accident. But even then, as the rubble still smoldered in NYC and DC (and PA), I knew that one day America would rise from the ashes and elect (so to speak) a president that would make George W. Bush look like a stable genius and elder statesman. It took us a while, but in less than 20 years, we’ve gone from a nation that the entire world stood with to the biggest fucking joke in the history of the planet (bit of a sick joke, to be sure, but an impressive one nonetheless). So congratulations to us, and don’t forget to run out and do some shopping. You know, for old times’ sake.

Things are fairly quiet this morning, but not nearly as quiet as they were on Labor Day 20 years ago (although it’s just as hot and humid). That’s because, in the wee hours of Labor Day morning 1998, something called a derecho came through this area. I’d never heard of it before, but a derecho is basically a wall of wind (and thunderstorms) and this one blew through at 115 mph at around 1:15 AM. We woke up because it was suddenly very warm in the house, thanks to the power (and a/c) being off. We stepped out onto the porch to see the tree in the front yard bent more or less in half, and the sky was a very strange color (which was odd, since it was the middle of the night and there wasn’t any power anywhere, though we didn’t know that at the time).

The final day of the NYS Fair was canceled (and only 16,000 or so away from an all-time attendance record), and we began what would be two weeks of cooking on a camp stove and listening to a battery-powered by the glow of Coleman lanterns (good thing I had a lot of camping shit back then). Using a mortar and pestle to grind coffee gets to be a real drag after a few days, let me tell ya. Also, did I mention it was hot? ‘Cuz it was fucking hot.

We’d only gone from dial-up Internet to cable a couple weeks before (pretty sure we were the first kids on the block to get it), and now we were shit outta luck. Actually, the Internet was still working, I think – just wasn’t much good w/o electricity. And it’s not like everybody had a laptop or a tablet or a phone back then. I mean, yeah, I guess there were cell phones – I might have had my good old StarTac back then; I’m not sure – but not phones in the sense that there are phones today.

Our landline was still working, though, so that was a good thing. I guess. The line was pulled off the house and hanging low across the street, but it continued to work for the next two weeks until the power finally came back on, at which point a repair truck went down the street and snagged it, ripping it all the way down.

But, hey, who needs a phone when you’ve got electricity?

It was at this point that my stepdaughter and I began the rather disgusting process of opening and emptying the refrigerator – which was pretty bad. Never could get the stink out of it – not enough baking soda in the world for that – and I wound up buying a new one. It was pretty old anyway.

Syracuse looked like a war zone for quite a while that fall, and the area lost a lot of really great trees. Very sad, and two weeks without power sucked (good think it wasn’t winter) but since there was actual President back then (no matter what you thought of his politics, or his other, um, peccadilloes) and we aren’t Puerto Rico or New Orleans (I don’t call us the Great White North for nothin’), things got back to normal pretty quickly.

I didn’t have a chainsaw that was up to the task back then, but I bought a new one (me and pretty much everybody else around here), and I’ve certainly gotten a lot of use out of it over the years, though I think I cut up more wood in those two weeks in all the rest of my life combined.

So, twenty years later and we’re on the cusp of yet another record-setting State Fair (this is something that we, for some reason, give a shit about around here – and I’m no exception. Must be genetic), with only another 8,000 or so required. It apparently rained a bit last night but no earth-shattering storms, and while it’s once again hotter than hell already this morning, the power – and the air conditioning – are still on, thankfully.

And, just in case, I now have a generator.

But let’s hope I don’t need it.

I was watching Bill Mahardy-Har-Har yesterday, and there was some British-sounding dude on (a reporter from – or for – Atrios, I guess). He was trying to explain to the choir that the Mueller investigation may not actually turn out the way we normal humans would like. Which you would think would make for a “duh” kinda moment, but neither Bill nor Jennifer Granholm were having any of that, thank you very much. The Atrios dude (and, to some extent, some other dude from the Weekly Standard, who has apparently seen the light – at least on Trump – who was saying something to the effect of “don’t underestimate this asshole’s ability to obstruct the investigation” to which I would add, “especially since he is in control of all three official branches of the government, the military, and is in the process of creating his own private army”) was saying, more or less, that we may not see any conclusive proof of anything out of this, and Bill and Jen were strongly protesting that “we all already know” this, that, and the other thing and by golly it’s obvious and yada-yada-yada.

And then Jen went on to say that Senator Warner will be introducing legislation on Monday to make it illegal for a President to revoke the security clearances of people who say mean things about the President and the other dude said “how many Republicans do you think will support that” (general consensus seemed to be “zero”) and she said “that’ll show everybody!”

Yep, as if the Democrats would be able to use that as a cudgel to force the Trumpists to see the light and, um, whatever. I guess go out and vote for Democrats or something. Or maybe it would incentivize Democrats to vote in such large numbers that they’ll be able to overcome the gerrymandering, voter suppression, Russian hacking, and outright thievery that we all know damn well is gonna occur in November.

Oh, and of course there’s also the small problem of the fact that a large number of Democrats are useless at best, and just as bad as their Republican counterparts at worst. Except you’re not supposed to say that because if you prefer a candidate in a Democratic primary who walks and talks like a Democrat then you’re part of the problem, damnit!

We all know that Democrats who act like Democrats can’t get elected – which is why things are so great now.

Never mind that this is how the Republican Party got to where it is today. Hey, the guy’s an asshole, but you have to vote for him because he’s “our” asshole.

Not that I’m suggesting you don’t vote for whatever Democrat there is to vote for on your ballot in November – asshole or not – (or don’t vote at all, which is just as bad). “Our” assholes are way better than their assholes, and it would be nice if the Republicans didn’t have the ability to install any more anti-union, anti-woman, anti-minority, anti-democracy, anti-American judges. Even if impeachment is already “off the table.”

Once we get the KKK out of power, then we can work on getting real Democrats back in. One step at a time.

Barry Crimmins made his debut at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival last year, and as you probably know, he, unfortunately, died of cancer this year. In celebration of his life, a number of comedians will be performing a benefit show in his honor at the New Town Theatre in Edinburgh on Thursday, 8/16. Proceeds are being donated to Helen Crimmins (Barry’s widow) to cover the costs of her cancer treatment. Sadly, tickets are apparently not selling well. So if you’re going to be in Edinburgh this week, you can book tickets for the show – a bargain at £10, which is like $13 – here. I can’t make it to Scotland, but I booked a ticket anyway. So, you know, you could so that if you wanted. Though it’d be better to have a full house rather than a bunch of empty seats. I only have two regrets – first, that it isn’t like the “old days” when lots of people from all over the world came and at least lurked here (probably would have been able to drum up a few ticket sales), and second, that Barry is gone while Henry Kissinger still draws breath. If that’s not a clear sign that there either is no god or that if there is, god’s a prick, I don’t know what is.

Today is National Orgasm Day. At least in the US, UK, Australia, and perhaps others. According to Wikipedia, it was (not surprisingly) started in Brazil, where it’s celebrated on August 8th, and it’s also apparently celebrated on November 18th (though it doesn’t say where, exactly). I’m just happy to learn that there are multiple Orgasm Days (though multiple-orgasm days would be even better). Some fun facts (according to this story over at Glamour) include…

1. People who smoke weed have more orgasms. Like, way more. Pot smokers surveyed were 109 percent more likely to have multiple orgasms.

2. Being politically active pays off. People who are more passionate about politics have more multiple orgasms and more orgasms in general.

Presumably because if you’re paying attention to politics, you realize just how fucked you are.

4. Our parents are getting off more than us. Millennials have 12 percent fewer orgasms than boomers. Womp-womp.

Apparently Glamour is staffed by (or at least read by) a bunch of sexually frustrated kids.

And of course…

7. Tech nerds are doing something right. Despite what stereotypes might lead you to believe, people working in computers and electronics have more orgasms than any other profession.

Of course they tend to be alone with their electronic, um, equipment while having them but, hey, an O’s an O, right?

Anyhow, enjoy the day, and, however you manage it, I encourage you to celebrate over and over again.

Our nesting Robins (both the “east” – located above our kitchen window – and “west” – located on the downspout by the garage – pairs) are now on their third set of babies. Or eggs – I don’t think either of these batches has hatched yet. Being ignorant in the way of Robins, I was surprised when the second bunch appeared a while back so I looked it up and, by golly, apparently as soon as the first bunch hatches the dad escorts them to another nest and the mom gets busy on the next batch. And once the new ones are hatched, dad helps feed the young until they fledge (Robins are clearly not Republicans). According to the Internet, they can have two or three sets in a season (Robins, that is, not Republicans – though of course “pro-life” Republicans just force the females involved to get abortions). It’s not quite August, so I’m wondering if we might get four broods out of these. I have to admit, I’m a little tired of getting the stink-eye every time I walk past but I obviously don’t have the heart to wipe out the nests until I’m sure they’re done for the year.

What they do after they’re done breeding, I’m not sure. I always thought Robins went south for the winter. A first Robin sighting was supposedly a sure sign of spring (though around here, it was usually a sign of a soon to be hungry, shivering, and pissed-off Robin). But my recent Ornithological research informs me that, among other things (such as the controversy – or debate, at least – over whether or not to capitalize the word “Robin” and other bird species names; does everything have to be so fucking complicated?). Robins supposedly don’t go anywhere for the winter (well, except for the Canadian ones – though our President will no doubt put an end to that – I’ll miss the Hummingbirds once he cracks down on illegal migration from Mexico and South America). They just flit about, switching from the summer fare of worms and insects to their winter diet of fruit. Where, exactly, they get fruit in the winter up here is beyond me (also, I don’t recall seeing Robins in January around here, though I’ll be keeping my eyes open this year), but the Internet doesn’t lie so it must be true.

I only hope they weren’t nesting in the rather large tree that came crashing down in my backyard the other day. Though it probably didn’t really “crash” but more slowly keeled over until my fence stopped it. Otherwise, the fence would be toast. After a few weeks of hot, dry weather around here, we’ve had several days of hard rain. This not only contributed to my damp (and by damp, I mean “wet”) basement but apparently softened the ground enough to have this poor tree give up the ghost.

So it was time to drag out the chainsaw. Unfortunately, the oiler doesn’t work (stupid “auto” oiler – give me a manual button to push once in a while). So I tried to take it apart to see if the pickup tube was clogged or something, but I don’t have the tool to take the clutch assembly off (turns out, you need one of those), so I ordered that and a new oiler and managed to put the chain back on bass-ackwards (really doesn’t cut very well that way) and chopped the thing up enough for now, though I’m gonna have to work around it while I cut the grass.

And then I put my fancy new LED work lights on the tractor (the old ones stuck up like Mickey Mouse ears, and I kept bashing ’em on tree branches), but they don’t seem to work (did I mention that everything seems to be a pain in the ass these days?) so I said “fuck it” and decided to go and sit under a different tree and not drink beer. I haven’t had a beer in two years now, and, frankly, it sucks. Sitting outside and not drinking beer is really quite boring. And the bugs are a lot more annoying, too. If it weren’t for Wi-Fi, I don’t know what I’d do.

How the hell did people live before the Internet?

Heh. Somewhere in here, there’s a setting about closing comments on a post after a certain length of time. I’m not sure what length of time that is, or even where the setting is. But apparently that limit has been reached, which only goes to show that I’ve been extremely lacking in writing posts. And thanks to Vernon for the head’s up. Anyhow, I will attempt to be more prolific in the future. Like, more than once a month. Or at least find and change that setting. Ah, found it!

Hey, Happy Father’s Day to all you fathers out there. And those of you who have fathers. And those of you who have been torn away from your fathers and stuck in a tent city concentration camp, and may never see your fathers again. And also the father of the fledgling robins who have left the nest over our kitchen window (mom still lives there, but I think its a deadbeat dad situation. Or maybe it’s a deadbeat mom situation – I don’t know how to tell, but I never see more than one there at a time), and the father of the hatchling robins in the nest on the downspout by the back of our garage. Got a tip for you prospective nest builders out there – if you’re gonna freak out every time I go in or out the door, you should really think about building your nest someplace else. This is our first spring in over 20 years without a cat, so I guess that explains the sudden surge in nesting around here. Anyhow, to all you dads, I hope things are going as well as they can be. Except that fat incestuous ferret-festooned piece of shit in the White House that’s caused so much pain for so many other fathers, mothers, and children. You, I only wish I believed there was a god so I could know you’ve got a eternity of suffering to look forward to. But, hey, I guess you can’t have everything.