Still alive

I’m still around. I just haven’t had much going on that isn’t training- and/or education-related, so I’ve been putting more writing time into my other blog and my training log as well as setting up a fundraiser that’ll end next April (details available on my other blog—see the previous post here for a link). The education part actually gets into some career changes, starting today when I became a member of the NSCA, and I’m hoping to sit for my CSCS exam toward the end of this year. After that, radio will hopefully become less and less a part of my life (not that I don’t enjoy it, but I’m not getting anywhere with it, professionally or financially).

Hope everyone is well.

New blog

Yes, as if I didn’t have enough reading and writing on my plate already, I’ve created another blog, this one focused solely on issues of health and fitness, more specifically on exercise, nutrition, and lifestyle modification. I could say more, but then, that’d defeat the purpose of mentioning (and linking) it in the first place, so go look. To that end, I’m moving all my fitness-related content from here to there, so this place may look a little sparse for awhile, namely the side bars.

By the way, I obviously made it back from Little Rock. The ride was 14.5 hours out, 13.5 hours back (fewer stops). I never… ever… EVER… want to do that again. If I can’t afford to fly next time—and there WILL be MANY next times—I just won’t go. Voila.

A little ride to Little Rock

In two days, I’ll be on my way to Little Rock, Arkansas, for a long weekend of total debauchery (I like that word). Technically, it’s for a conference, but one of the attendees described it a little better:

Telling your family and friends that you’re traveling to Arkansas to meet a bunch of dudes that you communicate via the internet every day with is both incriminating and oddly liberating.

Sure, you open yourself up to the inevitable “OMG! You’re gay!” jokes—but remember, this is Arkansas; Mike Huckabee would have us hung from the capitol if he found out we were a gay convention—and those jokes take on an added dimension when you tell people that it’s a “fitness retreat.”

I’ll be on the Harley, which wasn’t the original plan, but with fuel prices rising past four dollars per gallon, hmmm… let’s see… 800 miles at either 20-24mpg (truck, regular fuel) or 40-45mpg (Harley, high-grade fuel)… hmmm… yeah. Of course, with having to cover that distance in one day in (mostly) daylight, it’s going to be a long, hard ride going and coming back, but I’m pretty confident in being able to do it by leaving out at first light (around 5am). The only thing that won’t be so fun will be an all-interstate trip (and a dozen or so construction projects, including B, which is the loop around Knoxville since the mainline is closed), but I have a few fuel/rest/Harley stops built into the itinerary so that no single segment of the trip is much longer than three straight hours (stops C, D, and E are Harley dealers—gotta get the shirts, man), or about how long I can comfortably go before refueling.

As part of this pilgrimage, I was asked via open invitation to be a contributor to the event’s blog, so after (successfully) testing both picture and video posting from my Blackberry, I’ll be posting stuff there (rather than here) during the whole event and hopefully some stuff from the road as well, the latter being a little more feasible (I think) with a more technologically-advanced phone and a lot of lessons learned from my last major long-haul ride (speaking of which, I highly doubt there will be a day-by-day recounting of this event like last time, more likely just a quick-and-dirty comprehensive report, but no promises for even that). There will be bottles of water, there will be snacks of some sort (note the response to Phaedrus49er), there will be a back belt worn as needed (tested the fit under the jacket last night), and if I’m lucky (by the look of the weather forecast, I will be), there will NOT be rain on the way out there (Monday’s return trip is, of course, in question this far out).

All estimates point to right around twelve hours of actual road time under optimal conditions. Add at least four stops of 15-30 minutes (fuel, food/drink, bathroom, rest, Harley dealers) plus possible traffic delays (namely Knoxville, which is likely a morning rush-hour issue, and some bridge reconstruction at the Tennessee-Arkansas line), and I’m looking at about fourteen hours in transit. Yeah, it’ll be a long day, but at least we’re nearing the summer solstice, so the longer days will help out, especially heading west.

That is all.

Sticking my head in the sand

I haven’t been using an RSS reader for long, less than a year, I’d say. Google Reader, in my case. I’ve found it to be an awesomely convenient way to get bite-sized snippets of headlines and information I otherwise wouldn’t take time to look for, much less read in full (the items that interest me enough, that is). However, what was once a convenience has recently become a burden—if I go a full day without checking my reader, it’s not uncommon to have 400 unread items waiting for me, which would be fine if it was (a) mostly semi-interesting and (b) mostly neutral-to-upbeat in tone. Instead, being the news junkie I’ve unwittingly become, my reader is constantly filled with death, destruction, idiocy, inanity, and general Darwin Award material. In other words, the news.

I’ve been in an extremely foul mood for the past three days or so (apologies to those who’ve had to deal with me during that time). Nothing in particular has caused this other than having reached a state of overtraining, meaning I haven’t taken a break from my training in awhile, and my body (and mind) are breaking/broken down. While I have a two-week break scheduled starting after finishing up a massive program this week, I probably should’ve taken a break about a month ago but didn’t. I knew I was pushing beyond what I can handle, but various trips and other circumstances kept me pushing until it was more convenient—rather than optimal—to take a break.

At any rate, I guess I finally decided to stick my head in the sand today when it comes to online news (I already don’t pay attention to TV or print, and radio gets boredom attention when I’m on the road). I deleted news feeds from CNN, ESPN, The Drudge Report, and a few others that, put together, made up 60-75% of my reader content. I kept a local newspaper feed (still plenty of dumbf*ckery there), a couple tech blogs, and the couple dozen health/fitness/training/nutrition blogs I actually enjoy reading. A little over a year ago, I had a similar f*ck-it-all moment, but I still clamored for information. Now, I just don’t care. I will continue to keep up-to-date on all things fitness-related as they directly contribute to a career change I’m eyeballing later this year. I will also keep track of elected officials in which I take interest (Paul, Ruwart, Barr, and others with libertarian leanings). Otherwise, nothing I see/hear/read on the news, no matter how “shocking” it may be, surprises me anymore, so what’s the point of paying attention?

Beer me.

EDIT: The morning after posting this, I had all of fifteen new items to read. Sweet.

Introducing the boys

Fred, Rocky, and Max

Somehow, in less than two months’ time, I’ve gone from zero dogs to three dogs. Apparently, dogs are to me like shoes or tattoos or potato chips are to some other people: you can’t have just one (pair, in the case of shoes, before someone makes a snide remark on that :P).

Rocky came first, of course, right about the time I got the truck. His former family described him as about four years old, about forty pounds, and sporting a lot of boxer in him (hence the name they gave him). I GUESS he’s around four (behavior is hit or miss for that age, but he does listen very well), I GUESS he’s around forty pounds (though I think they overestimated because he was thinner and less fit when I first got him), and I GUESS he has a lot of boxer (to me, he looks like the perfectly average mutt). Though supposedly friendly to other dogs, it takes him awhile to really befriend other animals, especially smaller ones (bigger ones, he likes—I think he wants to be the submissive *ahem*). He’s passively possessive (i.e. he’ll relinquish a toy to Fred until he gets bored and drops it, then Rocky will swoop in and take it to his crate) and a bit of a baby (I’m guessing he still has some separation anxiety issues from the adoption), which is why I don’t relate his behavior to his age much.

Fred came when the girl started staying up here more often; it just became logistically easier to have her dog here regularly. Obviously a Scottish terrier, he’s a six(ish)-year-old brat, plain and simple. Sometimes, he listens, sometimes he doesn’t (though more often than not, he does), has some quirky behaviors along with a rather pungent aroma once he gets wet (and it doesn’t go away until he takes a bath, regardless of whether or not he’s dry). He certainly has the old-man mentality of the group: (pretend?) lack of hearing, stubborn, and gassy (the last of which is entertaining because he doesn’t realize it comes from him, so he looks around like it comes from somewhere else).

Max showed up last night. He was a present from the girl’s waste-of-DNA sister to her three-year-old son (without going into the whole Springer-esque backstory, suffice it to say that there was literally zero thought put into Max’s adoption). Max was basically left outside in all kinds of weather (he “lived” in the carport, so he was sheltered), left food and water when it ran out, and was otherwise ignored, hence I/we brought him here even though he’s four or five months—MONTHS—old. Just look at him. Look at his feet. He’s already almost Rocky’s size. When he walks, you already feel the floor vibrate. Needless to say, he’s going to be rather massive.

His size, age, and outside living were definite concerns, but it was either leave him out there to be neglected beyond the bare necessities, or bring him here into a cramped “apartment” where he’d get a lot more attention, not to mention a couple more roommates (I won’t say playmates because all the boys’ personalities clash to a degree: Fred is the spoiled old man, Rocky is the whiney loner, and Max is the playful—and huge—puppy). Being an outside dog, he’s not formally housetrained yet, but so far, so good on the road to making him an inside dog (only one tiny accident that was caught before it became a not-so-tiny accident). Of course, he doesn’t like being crated yet, but he’ll adjust quickly as long as he gets a bigger crate soon (I, on the other hand, might be sleeping on the couch more—he snores to wake the dead). Although supposedly advertised as a generic mutt, I’m beginning to have my doubts—he sure seems to be taking on a pit bull look.

EDIT: Okay, I take back the size thing about Max. He IS Rocky’s size. I swear the little bastard grew overnight, but sure enough, I just looked at them side-by-side, and their backs reach the same height. My house now smells like wet dog. Sexy.

Fair winds and following seas…

…to the newest addition to the US Navy, the USS North Carolina:

Posted on Sat, May. 03, 2008
USS North Carolina joins fleet
BY KEVIN MAURER
Master Chief Barry Swofford joined the Navy in the 1980s, volunteered for the “silent service” and got down to work stalking Soviet submarines.

“That was the threat. That was the job,” Swofford said.

But two decades later, the Russian submarines Swofford spent a career chasing don’t pose much of a threat. Terrorism is the nation’s primary concern, and fighting it is the mission he’ll take to sea aboard his new assignment and the Navy’s latest sub: the USS North Carolina.

The Navy commissioned the North Carolina on Saturday, the fourth $2.4 billion Virginia-class boat to join the service’s fleet of more than 50 submarines. It was designed to attack land and sea targets with cruise missiles and torpedoes, or sail into shallow waters to monitor enemy transmissions or drop off SEAL teams.

Speaking at the commissioning ceremony at the state port in Wilmington, Navy Secretary Donald Winter said the United States faces many challenges in the wake of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. With 70 percent of the world’s surface covered by water and 90 percent of international trade transported by sea, he said the North Carolina is the perfect weapon to meet them.

“We must remain vigilant and be prepared to face the challenges that risk surprising us in the decades ahead,” Winter said. “With USS North Carolina, the nation has made an investment in our safety and in our peace. She now joins the world’s greatest Navy and will be cast into a wide range of missions.”

The sub is the fourth vessel to carry the USS North Carolina name. The most famous is a World War II battleship now berthed on the Cape Fear River not far from Saturday’s commissioning ceremony.

Linda Bowman, the boat’s sponsor and wife of retired Admiral Frank L. “Skip” Bowman, gave the first order to the crew to “man our ship and bring her to life.” Crew members in dress white uniforms raced from behind the more than 5,000 spectators to the boat. The masts and radar dish rose from the submarine’s black tower and the North Carolina let out a long blast from its horn.

The sub was transformed from a “silent hull” to a “fully alive warship.”

Built in Virginia, the North Carolina is 337 feet in length, weighs in at 7,800 tons and can operate at more than 25 knots when submerged. It will based at the Navy’s New London submarine base in Groton, Conn., and the crew of about 140 will be led by commanding officer Capt. Mark Davis.

The submarine is the sixth on which he has served. “The previous ones pale in comparison to the North Carolina,” Davis said.

The new sub is piloted using a joystick and most of the controls on the sub’s bridge are touch screens. The boat doesn’t have a periscope with traditional optics. Instead, an extendable photonics mast is packed with high-resolution cameras and infrared sensors.

One of the biggest innovations: an expanded “lockout trunk” at the front of the submarine that allows a nine-man SEAL team to dive to and swim from the boat without requiring it to surface or stop. A computer keeps the submarine level while submerged, making it easier for the teams to deploy. The sub also has a docking area for a mini sub.

Lt. Cmdr. Andy Hertel, the sub’s executive officer, said the North Carolina is far superior than any the Navy has previously sent to sea because of its ability to perform a variety of missions.

“The flexibility is designed into the ship,” said Hertel, who has served tours on two other submarines before coming to the North Carolina.

The North Carolina’s focus on executing close-to-shore stealth missions is a departure from the submarine’s past missions of matching wits with Soviet submarines in deep ocean waters. Swofford said the sailors now take pride in delivering SEALs or intercepting radio transmissions undetected.

“If we can be a part of ‘taking care’ of the enemy, than that is something we can use to motivate our sailors,” Swofford said.

There are questions about whether submarines can really be a valuable part of the fight against terrorism and aid in conflicts such as the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The Navy has spent a lot of time and money creating the best submarine force in the world, said John Pike, a military analyst with GlobalSecurity.org, and it’s not something it’s willing give up.

“When the Cold War ended, it has been a little less clear what they were up to,” Pike said. “I think they are looking to get any mission they can lay their hands on.”

Winter defended the Navy’s investment in its submarine fleet during the ceremony, arguing that while the force’s exploits rarely make headlines, the boats are in demand and are performing superbly in a variety of missions around the world.

“Our submarine force is the envy of the world. We not only enjoy a quantity advantage but a quality advantage,” Winter said. “This quality advantage is evident in the boat we are about to commission with capabilities that will enable our Navy to prevail in war against any potential foe.”

Regardless of what you think about the United States, its governing policies, and/or its military presence around the world, there’s still something romantic and moving about the commissioning and launching of a new sea-going vessel.

On Crack

Nothing of significance here, at least not for anyone else. Just posting this from my new Blackberry, the 8330 Curve from Verizon. It came Saturday morning, a full week before its release to the general public. I’ve never—NEVER—been an early adopter of technology (the Wii, which is now for sale, by the way, being the closest I’ve come to having the latest and greatest), but for some reason, I’ve been tracking this phone for several months. Yes, it’s been out for a year-plus on GSM networks (AT&T etc), but in my humble opinion, Verizon has the best coverage in Charlotte, so I’ve dealt with delayed handset technology in favor of its CDMA network. Besides, it’s not like I go overseas all that much where GSM is about the only option.

So, why a Blackberry? Work, mostly, especially as I continue to approach taking on other jobs, so the instant access to contacts, calendars, and Internet has become more and more pressing. Why this particular Blackberry when others have been out for awhile? A combination of a full QWERTY keyboard (I just never could get the hang of SureType no matter how much I practiced), a larger screen for my bad eyes and regular Internet access, and the inclusion of a camera (the 8830 is basically the 8330 minus a camera)—the car fire convinced me to wait for this last feature.

This obviously will be a once-in-a-blue-moon thing given how ultimately cumbersome this post has been to compose, plus I can’t include hyperlinks or pictures without (a) typing out the HTML code and (b) knowing the full, exact address of the desired link.

More fun at the gym

From today’s training log:

First up, the Porno Twin Girls. I call them the PTGs because they were both pretty hot, not deadly hot, but the workout they were tag-teaming on certainly was. Seriously, they could’ve instantly dropped their dumbbells and gone after each other on the bench right beside me (an important spatial note to be commented on later). They really weren’t twins by any means, maybe sisters at best (HMMM…), but this make the story easier to tell—just think of them as a single unit (HMMM…). Well, okay, fine:

If there were individual stories behind them, we’d call them Black and White for their outfit choices, but suffice it to say that Black was built like a shit brickhouse: 5-5ish, 125ish, stacked in a great way—I say she was completely natural; the girl disagrees, but I hold to my opinion (by the way, I’m talking about her overall build, not her hoo-has, which weren’t bad, either). White was on the skinny side but had some good muscle to her and seemed to be following Black through her circuit free-weight/bodyweight routine, which was pretty badass, if I do say so myself—pull-ups, push-ups, Swiss ball crunches, maybe some other stuff I didn’t see.

Now, this was all fine and dandy in and of itself and would normally be reason enough for mentioning. However, whether is was because they were a tad lazy or because they just wanted to be near me while I did that first round of deadlifts, I dunno, but the only kinda empty floor space was a maybe 8′ x 8′ square between me doing deadlifts and the power rack where they were doing their pull-ups, incidently. So, instead of moving some of the benches to clear their own space or just working between the benches—which they did do for their crunches (albeit just on the other side of the aforementioned bench)—they decided to come setup for their push-ups right…in front…of me. Okay, fine, not a problem one time, but it seems that my work interval combined with my four-minute rest interval was the EXACT SAME AMOUNT OF TIME these two needed to make it back around to that point in their circuit.

This caused two problems—well, three, really. First, they were crowding me. You’d think that someone obviously doing 1-3RM deadlifts would kinda put off this vibe (another important point for discussion in a minute) to keep some distance. Second, they were between me and the mirror, which in going for lifts this (relatively) heavy, I really wanted to lock in my form and alignment. Third, how in the hell could I avoid the second problem by looking in the mirror without making it look like I was eyeballing them up, down, left, and right?

My eyes stayed down mostly, only going to the ceiling right before I pre-loaded (heh heh). I should mention that the most blatant performance of push-ups came during the last two sets of deadlifts—yep, the heaviest ones on which I had to concentrate the most, a difficult task under normal circumstances, but c’mon, really? A local, brunette, seemingly chatty version of Jamie Eason and her not-as-hot-but-still-very-doable friend doing strict-form push-ups with feet by me and bodies pointed toward the mirror? Do you KNOW how hard it is to deadlift with something ELSE pointed toward the mirror??? (Okay, well, at least I avoided that last point becoming an issue, but good lord ‘n’ butter…)

Side note: remember Carlton from above? Yeah, so while PTG was elsewhere doing crunches, he sets up in the power rack for his leg raises. Okay, fine, whatever, except that he then walks around, goes gets water, wanders back, adjusts the slings, yadda yadda yadda, all before even the first set. He takes so long that PTG makes it back for pull-ups (after another *boing* show) and asks if she can work in a set of pull-ups. Carlton says something like, “Sure, you can work in a set. In fact, you can work in any set you like.” I think I strained an eyeball from rolling it too hard.

At least…

…I’m not the only one who thinks that Guitar Hero is a gateway to real musical instruments. I was just the first to make the connection :)

Of course, with a Guitar-Hero-on-crack game in the works, the gap between video gameplay and video instruction could become almost imperceptible.

Two vignettes

I posted these to the off-topic/current events section of my training forum recently and thought I’d throw them up here. At least that gets me off the hook for a blog writing for another couple weeks :)

1. A Day at the Gym (from Thursday, April 24, 2008)

Now, for the fun part of today’s post: a cleaned-up re-telling (to the best of my recollection considering how hard I was laughing) of the profanity-laced tirade spewed forth from the passenger seat on the way home from the gym today. Seriously, PowerManDL would’ve blushed at this. I’ll offset it for visual and content separation:

Upon arrival to a mostly empty gym today, both the power rack and the squat rack were occupied by curlers. Awesome, especially since this was the girl’s squat day. The squat rack cleared during our dynamic warm-up, so she commandeered that while I setup behind her for my ballistic work. The power cage was still taken by two guys rotating on their BB curls, one of whom was attempting a gym junkie Jim Caviezel look: tall, thin, Jesus hair, obnoxiously carrying a gallon jug of water. This is important to note since, once he and Mr. Clean finished making sure they were God’s gift to the Morehead Street Peak Fitness on this day, Thursday, April 24, 2008, at around 1:30pm EDT, their visages framed in the mirror by the aforementioned power rack, JC (how awesome are those initials) ventured to an incline bench to my left for more curling. The girl had finished a set of back squats and a rest interval and had unracked the bar for a set of front squats, which she proceeded to do with near-perfect form including full ass-to-grass bottom position (relative for her biomechanics, of course) outside the rack itself as her bottom position is lower than the safety rails allow. On her second rep, JC blurted out something like “you shouldn’t go that far down.” The girl gave him a look in the mirror, I gave him a direct look, and I just as blatantly walked around to the side of her to “check her form” and announced that it was “damned near perfect, just keep your back strong.” JC wandered off soon after.

The girl and I each went through some other work, after which she ventured over to the Cable Station of Doom (DUN-DUN-DUUUUUUUNNNNNNN) from two days ago to do a superset of seated rows and Swiss ball crunches. By the time she finished her last set of rows and moved to the Swiss ball for that final set, JC had made his way to the Cable Station of Doom (DUN-DUN-DUUUUUUUNNNNNNN) to continue his uber-awesome elbow flexion workout of the week from Flex magazine with standing one-arm cable curls. The girl asked if she was in his way and thereby broke Rule #3 of the gym: if you don’t want to be bothered, don’t initiate anything even remotely resembling a conversation (aka don’t talk to anyone, period, unless they start it, and even then, keep it curt and distant… unless she’s hot and sincerely asking for advice). JC said no, of course—what guy would tell a hot girl that she’s in the way (well, other than me, which I’ve proudly done before)—and then, as she was pounding out her set, he said something to the effect of “you sure seem enthused to be here today,” to which she immediately and bluntly said, “I’m in a hurry today.” He responded with mumbling of some sort and turned away. Little did he know just how close he’d come to seeing some serious walnut-crunching ass power—well, okay, maybe not that, but the wrath of a woman pissed off that this, as she so eloquently put it later, “g—d— fucktard was taking up HER power rack that she needed to do some REAL work when she got there.” I shudder to think of the potential aftermath of that encounter.

I should back up here and mention the Ethiopian wannabe chick (seriously, she was white at one time but had tanned to a just-lighter-than-shit-leather brown, not to mention seeing her sinews and ribs) who was working under the dubious guidance of the “fitness manager” as we were setting up for the girl’s first squats (she later 1RMed at the end of the workout—hey, that’s how she wanted it today, so that’s how she did it). Wannabe’s final exercise involved planting both hands on a flat bench and hopping back and forth over it like a pommel horse for midgets. She did this with great enthusiasm, even giggling and exclaiming at one point during her final set: “I can feel my fat!” The girl and I looked at each other, and I thought the girl was going to pass out from rolling her eyes so far back (Poltergeist has nothing on her). As FM and Wannabe pranced back to his “office,” the girl turned toward the spot where they’d been, grabbed and shook her own tiny waist roll with both hands, pushed her hips forward, and said something like, “Yeah, you think YOU got fat? That’s skin, honey. THIS is fat. Do somethin’.” The girl then proceeded to hammer out her squats.

All in all, a pretty good day at the gym.

Oh yeah:
–Rule #1 of the gym: wear earphones (self-explanatory)
–Rule #2 of the gym: don’t make eye contact unless it’s to stare down someone from mis-using a piece of equipment you’re about to properly use

2. Head in the Sand (from Saturday, April 26, 2008)

I ran across an article this morning about water, and while reading, I couldn’t help but think about how stupid/useless/unimportant a lot of things people discuss and argue about—including the majority of topics tackled in this forum—are in relation to truly serious issues. Politics, religion, economics, entertainment, all pointless in comparison to our very survival. I’m not trying to play Chicken Little here, but there will come a point when people really will have to suck it up and deal with, you know, staying alive.

One side question that popped up: if I had to choose another place in the world to live, where would I go? Sure, Western Europe is more socially liberal. Sure, a lot of the American Midwest fosters a staunchly independent atmosphere. Sure, the Leeward Islands of the Caribbean are an isolated paradise on the cheap (hurricanes notwithstanding), but seriously, I’d have to put my personal ideals aside and go where I would be most likely to personally maintain my health. I’m talking about me and me alone, not an area’s supposed health care system, meaning available natural resources in a region where I wouldn’t necessarily face death every day. My choice: Canada (sit down, peanut gallery).

When it gets right down to it, all the “issues” people incessantly debate are never really resolved. Think about it: what “issues” have really been solved or at least compromised lately? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with debate, but very few people seem to rely on logic and compromise anymore–it’s my way or the highway, and even then, I’ll kick you when you’re down and gloat about winning, claiming that the “one right way” prevailed… until the next uprising, of course, the realization of failing to learn from history. Nothing is getting resolved anymore, only pushed off until the next time; in the meantime, just shut up and keep quiet and maintain the peace for as long as you can—let someone else deal with it.

Back to the first article I linked, some things are going to become forefront issues no matter how much they’re ignored or put off for other seemingly more important things (steroids in baseball, anyone?). This does not include global warming/cooling/climate change—that has become a religion in and of itself (thank you, anthropo-egoism) as only short-term correlations have been observed, and frankly, there’s no way we can definitively conclude humanity’s global impact because we simply don’t—and can’t—have the perspective necessary to determine that. That the earth warms and cools is true—it’s observable fact via geological records—but correlation does not equate to causation. What IS measurably true is that natural resources are being tainted and/or outstripped in many parts of the world. The issue is not who or what caused it, but how we can deal with it. I’m sick of the blame game people play—WHO CARES (trial lawyers notwithstanding)—because that only matters in the past, which is past. What about tomorrow and the next day? Will anyone care whose fault it was that there’s no clean water to be had? No, they’ll only care about getting clean water here and now.

My apologies for the incoherent rambling/ranting; I generally keep this kind of stuff in check since griping solves nothing, but every now and then, I just feel like going completely off the grid, disconnecting from all news sources and being blissfully ignorant of the rampant stupidity I read about every day, and living how *I* think I should live, which is with as little impact on other people as possible.

Good morning.

/soapbox