Hijacked!

The great thing about the day after Pentecost is that you get to go fishing, at least that was the plan. Walk the dog, get a coffee at the pick 'n steal, then head off to the fish zone. A simple, elegant, straightforward Monday solution and it was going so well. Then the key snapped in the lock of the front door.

The View

I stared hard at that lock. Maybe telekenesis would move the key. No, it didn't, fail. Then I tried to pry the key out of its lair with needle nose pliers, a knife, and nail cutters. That didn't work either. Useless. So what do you do?

The Cry Babies

Sit around whining, like a cry baby, spoiled brat social justice warrior, and accuse the keyed up lock of oppressive gender stereotyping? Or maybe you stand there, open-mouthed like a Bass, hoping that the State will step in and fix the lock, with its big government magic? 

The Cylinder

You can try all that; sure, go ahead, just don't be surprised when your lock stays permanently broken. I chose a different path, I took the thing apart.

The Cam

Getting the key out of the cylinder wasn't too hard and I took it to the hardware store, where a helpful keysmith cut me a new one, using the broken offender as a model. He assured me "it wouldn't work." Thanks, key bloke. But it did, and everything turned out fine, except for the fishing, which didn't happen.

The Fix

So there it is, a fishing experdition stopped dead in its tracks by locksmithery. I'll have to make up for that tomorrow.

Cheers,

LSP

Something Better Change

Do you remember America's 2008 presidential election? Sure you do, people went wild for "hope and change" and the libs were out in force, partying in the streets, while trads gnashed their teeth. I didn't grind my few remaining teeth, but I did watch Dallas Democrats whoop up the demise of the hated Bush as they danced, literally, in the leafy boulevards of Bishop Arts. 

You poor, mad, fools, I thought quietly to myself, as I sipped a glass of the right stuff from the vantage point of a street corner outside an overpriced restaurant.

Pull Your Pants Up, Fool

Nearly 8 years later, hope and change mania has turned into a choppy, sometimes explosive, discontent. The black urban poor aren't happy, witness Ferguson and Baltimore; it seems they're disinclined to be bought off with cell phones and food stamps. The pampered, whining, university elite aren't happy. For them, the Frankfort School revolution can never go far enough.

Student Stasi Whineleader

But that's not all. People looking for jobs aren't happy because, unless you're an artist, sorry, waiter, there aren't any, and people with jobs aren't too pleased either, as real income shrinks while prices rise. And it goes without saying that social conservatives are mad at what they justifiably see as an increasing attack on traditional values. Sorry, Christians, bake the cake.

Terrorists? Or Does The Government Just Want Your Land?

In brief, the vast majority of the population isn't pleased, and I'm being polite, with the way things are. Go figure, hope and change has brought us exactly what? Affordable healthcare that the poor get fined for not being able to afford and, wait for it, "Cait." Well thanks a lot, rulers, we may be poorer but at least we've got gay marriage and the awesome liberty to get a sex change.

In the meanwhile, in the public mind, a tiny minority of self-serving,  inside-the-beltway political insiders and their oligarch friends, continue to wax large without regard for the people they govern. I'll leave you with the Jeremiad ZeroHedge, commenting on the recent Oregon ranch stand-off:

This is what happens when people get desperate, when citizens lose hope, and when lawful, nonviolent alternatives appear pointless.

Whether the parties involved are blameless or not, whether they’re using the wrong tactics or not, whether their agendas are selfless or not, this is the face of a nation undergoing a nervous breakdown on all fronts.

Now all that remains is a spark, and it need not be a very big one, to set the whole powder keg aflame.

Behold Your Ruler?

Word to the wise. When you see big lines at the ATMs, get ready to get out.

Cheers,

LSP