Nom de plume: Rivrdog

Meme time 2

Meme:

It's 2015. Your Government has implemented the Final Solution. You're locked up in a mental hospital with no hope of release, but you do get to have visitors. An orderly comes around with your visitor form for you to name those visitors, who will then be notified by the hospital.

List the first three visitors. You don't have to use names here, but relationships, etc instead. Consider that you were one of the first to be grabbed, but there is a lot of room in your hospital...

From a suggestion on FB for a new drinking game...

Here are mine:

My ex-wife

My doctor-daughter

My last martial-arts instructor

Sic Semper Ignorati

Will someone check my Latin? Ignorati may not be a real Latin word, but since you know what it means, I'll use it anyway. You ignorati who think that because some fool stops playing beer pong long enough to slam some code ought to be supported in his bid to take over the world's information system just got your comeuppance. The stock lost 11% today and would have lost more had it not been propped up, for the second trading day, by Morgan Stanley, which seems to have a penchant for throwing their client's money away (and you KNOW what that means if they trade for you). Were it not for the support of Morgan Stanley, Facebook would likely have been down at least to $30 and maybe it would have collapsed by now.

At this point, the big investment funds that went out on a limb with FB are looking to cut their losses. It will be a bad week. Normally, when the stock of a IPO hits it's floor, it has nowhere to go but up, but this observer says FB will not go up, because they have nothing to offer for the future. No business model, no long-term loyalty base, no nothing but controversy now. Both Zuckerberg and his minority partner are playing tax-avoidance games which are also responsibility-avoidance moves. The fall of Facebook stock might be slowed by day-traders playing it's options, but those options can't give the stock value, they can only delay the inevitable. Investors bypassed the faults of the company and bought the shares because they believed that they were on an up-elevator. Now that they know that their ride has small ups and big downs, they will get off that ride quickly.

NASDAQ will shelter the stock by the end of the week. Facebook users will use the product, from which Zuckerberg recovers about 20 cents on the recoverable dollar, just until something glitzier comes along, or until some sort of major privacy breach occurs, and I rate that as a strong possibility; given the slapdash way the company is managed for finance, it's probably managed for security the same way.

I don't have a Facebook account, simply because I can get what I want more securely elsewhere. When the current crop of Facebook users come to share my attitude, and they will, Facebook's market penetration will begin a slide from which they will not recover.

Remember MySpace? I didn't jump on that bandwagon, either. I have Twitter accounts, but don't use them personally in my circle, which pretty much relies on email, telephone or personal contact. I occasionally send text messages. I'm connected well enough, and share what I want via my blogs.

As the kids grow up, they will shed Facebook, too.

Now, given those conditions, who the HELL wants to invest in such an enterprise? 

Red Card for Major League Soccer

MLS, supposedly just a sporting outfit dedicated to trying to raise American Soccer to the level of say, the English Premier league (which is unliely to happen in MY lifetime), seriously tripped on it's PR this week with it's "Show Racism a Red Card" PR-blitz. This effort, timed to take shameless advantage of the tragic death of Trayvon Martin, has no place in any display of sports organization.

First of all, the Martin/Zimmerman investigation is incomplete, but as information leaks out, it appears that Martin may well have been a race-baiter, and not Zimmerman. Just like the Rodney King affair, the intitial action was not indicative of the heart of the principal. Rodney King was a thief and a thug. He didn't deserve getting beaten down, but the Nation didn't deserve the race-rioting that was perpetrated in his name, either.

No, the Portland Timbers, a newer franchise in the struggling MLS, and one which has been broadly supported on the taxpayer dime (to the demise of a 100-year-old AAA baseball franchise, from which the Portland Beavers were booted and to which, with an expensive stadium remodeling cost footed by John Q. Taxpayer, the Timbers moved), can't afford to make these mistakes.

I was still on the fence as to whether I supported the franchise. I had not gotten over the cruel decision to boot out the baseball team, but I was warming to the wide acceptance of the Timbers in the local area, and also, the fact that I am one of the few of my generation of Americans who understands the game well enough to support it. I played soccer for about 9 or 10 straight years as a youth, both here and in England as a student, back in the 1950s before many US kids ever even heard of the game. I supported my youngest daughter when she played the game, and coached her into a winning goalkeeper (I was a keeper most of my soccer career).

I'm dedicating myself to opposing the franchise known as the Portland Timbers now, though. Their stupid attempt to interfere in racial politics in this country is not only absurd, it goes against the heart of international soccer, which is the single most multi-racial and inter-racial enterprise on the planet.

Read the last few paragraphs of the report of last night's game, which was a loss for the local lads. The team lost the game, and the team lost me, and others as well, with their PR gaffe.

I'm waiting for an apology.

Glom that Red Bull, switch on that helmet cam...

...and YEE HAAAA!

This is truly the wonder of the modern age, both culturally, that people even DO this heart-stopping stuff, and second, that they RECORD it and publish the recordings.

I liked the BASE-jumper shot where the jumper paraglided down through a NARROW rock chimney canyon. That one was probably the most death-defying of all.

H/T to Mad Ern, out in the high desert.

"...And the Marching Band Refused to Yield..."

...confrontation in progress....hopefully, it's NOT The Day the Music Died.

Oregon State University's entire 250-student marching band, enroute to Seattle to play in the WSU Cougar-ORST Beaver PAC-12 game tomorrow (on the Seahawks gridiron), pulled up in downtown PDX to play a noon concert on the bricks in Pioneer Square (webcam here).

The Flea Party, marching about down-town, is heading for Pioneer Square.

Stay tuned, this could get interesting. Now, readers of this blog will remember that Rivrdog roots for the Ducks, the Beavers' big in-state rival, but in this case, I'm rooting for Oregon State.

Go Beavers!

Scratch those Fleas!

Don't let those players take that field! (Refuse to Yield)

******************************************************************************

AAR: the Flea Party didn't want to tangle with the cops OR the Beaver Band. They contented themselves with milling slovenly about while the band finished playing, then fired up bullhorns to harangue the band members as they were re-embarking on their buses for the trip North. Mostly they yelled inanities such as "Enjoy paying your tuition? It's outrageous because of Wall Street" Of course, the Flea Party lies. Tutiion is outrageous because EVERYTHING'S outrageous these days, but mostly because of the teachers' and assistants' salaries (union folks, they get a large salary).

AAR2: The OSU Beavers beat the Wazoo Cougars in Seattle. There was a fine battle on the gridiron, and between the Marching Bands. I'm puzzled as to why the WSU band played the "Mashed Potato" when WSU took the ball for the last time with a minute left in the game and down 24 points...

Fishwrap to PDX Mayor: Run the Flea Party out of town!

I figured it would take a week for the downtown merchants to tally their losses and start calling either the Oregonian newspaper or Hizzoner hisself.

Today, in it's lead Editorial, the paper says, enough is enough, time to run the encamped Flea Party out of Courthouse Square.

I'd guess that the Mayor has, by now, called up Chief of Police Mike Reese and asked him to come up with a plan to break up the camp without breaking any heads. Good luck with THAT, Chief.

A note on the protesters: They're ginning up a protest in downtown Vancouver, WA, right across the river from Portland. The Vancouver Mayor, Tim Leavitt, told his Chief of Police that no, they would NOT be allowed to camp, and the Chief put out the word: pull out a tent and you're in irons and off to the hoosegow. What did the protesters do? Told their people to camp in Portland, that's what they did.

When you flinch, you draw body blows. When you show some spine, the rumpkins back down.

It is ever thus.

It'll get interesting down in Courthouse Square. BTW, I had a footbeat there for my last three years as a Patrol Deputy, 2000-2003. That was MY Patrol District. Part of me wept when the Mayor (and the Sheriff) gave in to the mobs last week, but part of me knew that the day would come when the riot batons would once again work their forty-eight inches of magic on the unwashed.

"At close interval, Dress-Right-DRESS" The assembled unit takes formation.

"Echelon Right, HO" The formation echelons, giving a "snowplow" effect to push the target crowd to one side or the other.

"At shuffle-step, FORRARD HO". The unit moves forward to contact distance.

"At Cadence, make NOISE" (Beat baton on shield, or tap street with baton end if no shield). This intimidation tactic, in coordination with the foot-stamp done in the Shuffle-Step, makes plenty of noise.

The entire formation echoes each command of execution with a hearty "HUNHH!" This clears the lungs of tidal air, and prepares the body for combat by over-exhausting CO2, and taking in more O2 than normal.

I never had to actually get to contact in riot formation. The intimidation of the tactics always worked perfectly. We practiced it quite a bit in the early Seventies, a hold-over from the turbulent Sixties where just about every cop on both the City and Sheriff's forces DID go to war in the streets of Portland, several times.

The sight and sound of the helmeted echelons of 15 cops each echelon, in perfect formation and cadence, coming up the street at their definitive shuffle-step (half-step, sliding feet, with a heavy heel-strike at end of every second step), was ALWAYS enough to cause even the most determined street toughs in the outer ring of demonstrators to break ranks and run.

Portland will likely see the echelons again, very soon. There are variations now, including echelons of bike cops, using their bikes as pushing tools, and the Flying Wedges, wherein 10 or 12 cops ride the running boards of a SWAT-wagon right into the fray, jumping off and forming an instant Flying Wedge.

The cops last used these tactics during Portland's ugly riots at the start of the Iraq War.

It's too bad the new army of punks doesn't have the perspective of history. So far, I haven't even seen Black Cross, the punk version of battlefield medics. They carried lots of eyewash for pepper-sprayed punks, and could put fast and effective bandages on broken scalps, too.

My prediction: there WILL be a confrontation, in about another week, but there won't be a battle. I just don't see enough nerve in these Flea Party punks to stand and fight.

"Occupy Portland"

...means I and other financially-able shoppers or diners have NO reason to enter the downtown area. Maybe some time next week, when the merchants get a clue that their business has been off for a week, and start calling shitty City Hall, the Police Chief might be told to get the riff-raff out of downtown.

I'm not holding my breath, though. When the Occupy Portland "leaders" demanded and got permission to camp overnight in City parks on Thursday night, they promised to be out of the parks by 7:00 am, and promised again to not interfere with the set up of the finish-line area there for the Portland Marathon, which is today.

The anarchists have broken every promise they've made, but the shitty City Hall just keeps accepting their word for these things.

BTW, what's up with the calls for the similar demonstrations back East to be fleshed out with Union personnel? Hmmmm...could it be that the White House is behind "Occupy (your town here)"

More likely, although I wouldn't rule out Valerie Jarrett's hand in the whole movement, would be that the anarchists are trying to put on a "WTO" fuss, but since the WTO isn't meeting anywhere, had to do this "Occupy" thing instead.

Oh, well. When there is Occupation, there is usually Resistance. Read the History books, chumps, you have no guarantees to be free from harm as you disrupt cities. Harm can come in many forms, at many speeds, from any direction.

Dragon Boat Racing AAR, et seq...NOW WITH PHOTOS!!!

It was an interesting and fun weekend, with the hustle and bustle of the huge-dragon-boat racing venue, which we berthed Lofoten Girl in the middle of, the multi-day family re-union, with a mega-dose of the Rivr-granddaughter, now one year old, and all the posh that goes with yacht life at a first-class yacht moorage (and the expense, this weekend will top $800 by the time I half-fill the fuel tank on the way back downriver).

RivrSon and RivrGrandDau

I've had plenty of rest, stayed on my moderate diet for the most part, except for the sugar in too many margaritas (it was Fleet Week, so there was more than just one sodden sailor in this City!).

As I sit in port for the next four hours until the Fleet has departed downriver and all the travel restrictions go away, I have time to compose my thoughts and write this post. It should be fun, writing the post, but at the end I'll reveal why it isn't.

First, the Dragon boats. There were 69 teams participating, including Daughter #2's. The Daughter's team won no heats, but in their final heat yesterday, did not come in last, their fate in the first 4 heats they entered.

Wasabi Special Dragons Black, bringing up the rear, but they are trying hard.

There is some definite strategy in the short, 500-meter races. As in all regattas, the start is a standing one, and the coxswain (team captain) has to instantly transition the crew from the fiddly job of station-keeping at the starting line to accelerating the two-ton craft and crew up to racing speed. That's difficult, even more so with persons on the crew who have mental handicaps.

From the start line, the four boats in each heat paddle downriver on the course, with a very strict lane requirement, so the steering sweep has to pay careful attention to wind and wave to stay in lane. As they approach the finish, usually having maintained a 30-beats to the minute stroke, the coxswain will usually call for the sprint stroke of the 16 paddles. Some of these sprint strokes are amazing, running as high as 70 strokes per minute.

Put yorself in that racing seat. At the gun, the drums sound a hard beat, and sets the starting stroke, fast, but you transition out of it and into the long-range stroke quickly. On every stroke of your paddle, you lean forward 25 degrees and dig, putting everything you have in your shoulders, trunk and legs into smoothly pulling that skillet-sized paddle blade back towards the stern about 12 inches, then you straighten up, pull up the paddle, lean over and do it again. Each stroke is precise, intense, and not something God designed the human body to do. You will make just short of 200 of them in the next three minutes. You get to know every fiber of muscle in your body, and if you're good, you delve so deeply into your own psyche that you can tune out everything but your grip on the paddle, the sound of the drum-beat, and the delicious resistance of the River to your efforts. You WILL overcome that River! You will OWN that River!

Now you are the coxswain of Wasabi Special Dragons Team Black. As you stand at your position just below the the figurehead dragon's tail, your steering sweep in hand, you look down at your Crew. This lot of unfortunates would, 50 years ago, have been gracing the inside of a semi-Medieval asylum somewhere, herded through their meaningless daily routines as the days merged into months and the months into years and the years into the sums of their un-reported lives. We're more enlightened now, and we allow these humans to have souls, at least, and we allow them to express their Soul's cries. When enough of them can be assembled, some stalwart, normally-abled human with a surplus of soul will try to give her charges a view of normal life. So goes the Special Olympics, and it's offshoot, this Dragon Boat Crew.

It isn't all gravy. Directing a team of paddlers is difficult, what with the physical training that each individual crewmember must do, and all of their diverse schedules (none of these crew can PLAN, you understand). Yep, a bit like herding cats, as I've heard it expressed in private moments. Every now and again, someone will step up and help you with an event, but YOU are the nuts and bolts, Coxswain, as have all cox'ns been since men (and women) have gone down to the sea in boats.

But, you persevere, Gwenn, and you see your Crew through two long days of racing in the crowded venue attended by thousands of city-dwellers. Then you award them each a fine medal for their effort, and you meet some of us, then you take your exhausted and ancient body to where ever you call home, and you shut it all out for a precious few minutes. Then you wake up and start planning for next year's Team. I know this, because you've done this same bit of super-woman schtick for 13 years now. YOU are a true hero of this town, GWENN, and this old warrior salutes you, because you're one of US, and your war will never end, unlike mine which did end.

The RivrDau #2 stands with a team member while her Coxswain Gwenn is awarded HER medal, which, rightly, should be the US Presidential Medal of Freedom.

OK, I promised some different news, but it will have to wait, I must be having some sort of allergic attack now, can't see the screen of the monitor very well...

Continuing a fine trend...

...started by Mad Rocket over at Random Nuclear Strikes (not so random now that we're downwind of Fukushima Daiichi #1, but that's another story).

Here are some more whacky signs. Sort of nihilistic, but hey, I've done just fine following Sartre for 50 years...

Name that Gun!

A contest over at Straight Case blog.

Go there, you know you want to, and I'll give you an Official Pass to miss Jeopardy! tonight if you enter. The consequences of missing Jeopardy! without a Pass are that your mind will dull, you'll get incontinent, start to drool and blither on about non-gunny subjects, and when you get carted off to that Memory Care place by your children, they'll take all your guns away from you. Maybe that's just as well, can you even BEGIN to imagine IWB carry inside your Depends? Ohh Nooe!