Stump Lane
in the dirt since history began

I’VE BEEN WONDERING what makes this swine flu so terrifying. Which is to say, why is the TV telling me to be terrified of it? Does it kill a higher percentage of those who come down with it? Does it spread more easily? Is it an extraordinarily painful way to die? Don’t something like 36,000 people die from ‘regular flu’ each year in the US? Is this virus worse than that?

Probably not:

…the current outbreak of the H1N1 virus … may not even do as much damage as the run-of-the-mill flu outbreaks that occur each winter without much fanfare.

[LA Times: Scientists see this flu strain as relatively mild]

About what I expected.

Media outlets. Do they willfully incite mass hysteria to keep viewers glued to their sets with bated breath for the next terrifying development, or from the fear their next inhalation may be teeming with infectious spirits? Or are they, as a collection of individuals susceptible to their own worries, incapable of overcoming a kind of fear-induced myopia of uncertainty about the hidden meaning unstated implications of official CDC-type pronouncements?

To put it another way: Are they fucking with us, or just not good at their fucking jobs?

[H/T: IOZ]

Yearly Kos is going to Pittsburgh this year. We at Agitprop are pleased to officially announce the possible consideration of maybe establishing a preliminary exploratory committee to raise the $275 registration fee, and to cajole Pittsburgh denizen, and proprietor of the web log Who is IOZ?, IOZ, to attend the convention and carry out some internet age gonzo journalism.

I’m ready to pitch in a few bucks. What about you guys?

“Four dollars here… almost five.”

“I got eighteen dollars, Dude.”

“What’s mine is mine.”

Awww. Come on, Walter!

[What is the protocol around here for burying two posts that only just appeared at the top of the page in the time since I started composing this post? With apologies, be sure to see Agi's All Your Carbon Are Belong To Us and Mike's If A Senator Switched Parties And No One Cared Would It Make A Difference? below.]

This is probably going to blow any street cred I may have had with this crowd, but I went to a Ben Folds concert last night. Went with my dad, who I had put on to Ben Folds Five 11 or 12 years ago. He’s been following Folds since, though I have not. But he asked me to go. So I went. It was good. Dude can fucking shred on the piano. And the band was tight. Piano — bass — drums — one guy who played synthesizers, horns, xylophone and other percussion instruments — and another percussionist who was the best tambourine player I have ever witnessed, and could kick Will Ferrell’s ass at cowbell any day. (Folds actually had him take a cowbell solo at one point.)

A highlight for me was a song introduced as one of a group of intentionally shitty tracks leaked on the internet as a gag prior to the release of one of their albums.

The Bitch Went Nuts

Even more highlighty, here is what can happen when you jam a couple of Altoids tins in a grand piano and play it through a distortion pedal.

Free Coffee

They didn’t do a whole lot of Ben Folds Five stuff, so aside from two covers of fake doctors (Dr. Dre and Dr. Hook,) I was hearing most of the songs cold, without having heard them before, and it was still a great show.

The warning stickers on my pool are so punk rock:

Yeah, I’ve got my own little parcel of White Trash Heaven right here on Earth. But it’s classy when I do my best William Buckley Jr. impression and say things like, “You simply must stop by. We’ll be out sipping Mimosas on the deck by the above ground. Jeeves will show you around.”

Anyway, we’re rocking the weather faded danger stickers, minus anything that was printed in red: the circles with “do not do” slashes and the actual WARNING/DANGER titles. “It’s like an advertisement for death,” my 10 year old daughter gleefully points out. Yes. We invite you: jump, dive. Knock yourself out. (Quite possibly literally.) Permanent injury or death may result.

Next time some intellectually defective yahoo, who thinks it’s a good idea to dive into a 52 inch deep pool, does us the favor of carrying out his plan, who’s pockets will be deep enough to cover the lawsuit? Probably not the cut rate, subcontract warning sticker supplier. Now that’s punk rock.

So, what do people think? Should I put in a 10 meter diving platform or what?

Hi there. I’m new ’round these parts. Thanks to Agi for the invite. Like Agi, I have been “blogging” since 2004, at the little known Stump Lane, and the slightly less little known I Like Pie, Spot! (formerly I Miss Fafblog, Spot!) Like Agi, I started out in Bush Derangement. And like Agi, have evolved — or devolved — into something else altogether.

Rather than boring you by rambling on and on, I’ll say it with this bumper sticker I just made up:

Because if your personal philosophy can’t fit on a bumper sticker, you’re just showing off.

0.8 miles, 7:54 minutes

So I ran less than a mile at a 10 minute pace, but my lungs wouldn’t have comfortably allowed me to run much further. I’m not so discouraged, this being only my third time out, but there would be a lot of work ahead of me if my goal were, say, to be able to run 10k at a 9:00/mile pace…

Ran this time with the theme song from The Wizards of Waverly Place (don’t ask) in my head, and contemplated the awfulness of television, and what it means to be the awfulest show on television.

2 miles, 26 minutes*

*Ran the first mile in 12:20 minutes, uphill, into the wind. Then I was a mile away from home and had to get back somehow. The return mile was a slow slog. Another 7 minutes of running interspersed with periods of walking. Ran at a slow enough pace that my lungs didn’t resist as much as last time out, but, some pretty intense discomfort in the soles of my feet, and a short burst of extreme pain in my lower back, kept me from running the whole way. The back thing, I believe was an after effect of having tweaked it a bit taking out the garbage this morning, so I don’t think it is related to running and don’t anticipate it becoming a recurring issue.

Though running more slowly, still wasn’t comfortable enough to lose myself in deep thought. Instead, the mp3 player of my mind entertained me with the Smiths’ Shoplifters of the World Unite on repeat. That said, the mp3 player of my mind is not a real mp3 player. And this is the extent of the lyrics I had access to from the long-term memory banks:

Learn to love me
Assemble the ways
Now, today, tomorrow and always
[la-da-da-da-da-la-da-da] … well, never mind, never mind

Shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Hand it over
Hand it over
Hand it over

Half a verse and the chorus. On repeat.

By the way, since when has Morrissey looked like Bruce Campbell?

SO WE FILED and paid our damn taxes today. Taken through coercion to be spent, in the main, on killing motherfuckers overseas and making interest payments on the vast amount of debt accrued, in the main, through vast amounts of investment in building and maintaining the capacity to kill motherfuckers overseas. Though I disapprove to the greatest extent possible, I also do not relish the idea of incarceration for tax evasion. So we pay.

William Godwin provides a comforting rationalization:

The greatest mischief that can arise in the progress of obedience is, where it shall lead us, in any degree, to depart from the independence of our understanding, a departure which general and unlimited confidence necessarily includes. In this view, the best advice that could be given to a person in a state of subjection is, ‘Comply, where the necessity of the case demands it; but criticise while you comply. Obey the unjust mandates of your governors; for this prudence and a consideration of the common safety may require; but treat them with no false lenity, regard them with no indulgence. Obey; this may be right; but beware of reverence. …’

Criticize while you comply. Blarg! Yes. Join a tea party with a bunch of craven, politically partisan yahoos? Thanks but no thanks. I mean, if we’re going to remain stuck with this massive state, stealing vast amounts of money from the people once a year, I’d rather they spend it on healthcare, social security and such, rather than some kind of bottom-up redistribution/killing motherfuckers scam. Besides, our rulers are unmoved by public protest, or haven’t you noticed?

As a post script, there’s a legal case I learned about once in a 100-level Business Law course I took. Read about it under the cut. (more…)

I STOPPED running last fall when hunting season began, and the woods trail near the kids soccer field felt like it might turn into a shooting gallery. Then when daylight savings time went back to standard time it was too dark to road run after work. Then the treadmill was broken. And I was lazy.

Now I am faced with starting over again. Also, in taking this “blog” in a more self-indulgent direction you will have the opportunity to read about my descent into hell the restarting of my running regimen, in the form of running log entries like this one right here.

Less than a mile, 8:20 minutes

First run after a 4+ month lay-off. The first 300 yards or so felt great! After that it was all searing pain across the bottom of my right foot (reacclimating to my extreme stability running shoes,) gouging raking pain in the grooves between my ribs (we’re talking metal claw shaped garden rake, not flexible leaf rake — and we’re talking professional grade rake, not the cheapo homeowner’s special rake,) horrifying stabbing chest pain (heart vicinity,) and a sensation like inhaling sheets of copy paper (mimeograph paper — chemical burns and paper cuts all the way down the esophagus.) All-in-all, not too bad.

I’ve stopped and restarted training several times in my running career. Starting sucks. But to look upon the positive here, my legs felt as though they would have carried me much further than my lungs would have allowed.

Lastly, this is the part, running log, where I would normally share with you the meanderings of thought, the journey of the mind that transpired during my run. This time, there was only the study of pain.

THE CONVENTIONAL wisdom is this:

We have to do what’s necessary to restore growth and to pursue the reforms that can stabilize our financial system well into the future. We have to reject protectionism and accelerate our efforts to support emerging markets.

What is this devotion to almighty “growth?” Aside from our financier priests’ obvious fetish for profit taking through exploitation, the Mammon of easy, oftentimes supernatural, wealth accumulation I mean.

We are a human race run amok, facing overpopulation and scarcity around every corner, creating an environment for ourselves everyday less and less suitable for our own habitation. At the same time we put on our soberest airs and express reverence and continued faith in things that are Too Big To Fail. We love us some BIG.

“Too big” is the problem. Restoring growth is not the solution. Establish shrinkage instead! Take Too Big To Fail and make it Small Enough To Devour.

Is it possible to topple the mythology of currency as governor of the universe? Money is but a hollow placeholder, a conduit for financial power. Yet the devout worship at its feet with cultlike spirituality.

Acknowledge the wealth of your own human labor, for goodness! (There’s a valuable commodity for you.) It’s past time to embrace a sort of protectionism that recognizes the value of the potential, of ourselves and neighbors, to do productive work growing, making and creating things that are, you know, useful.

Essentially the opposite of the conventional wisdom quoted above.

PS: Blog Against Theocracy (the other kind) is coming up in a couple of weeks and should be remembered.